r <; 

OD 


AMERJCANSTORYOFTO-ft 


GERTRUDE 
POTTEH 
DANIELS 


The  Warners 


AN  AMERICAN  STORY 
OF  TODAY 


BY 
GERTRUDE  POTTER  DANIELS 


CHICAGO 

JAMIESON-HIGGINS  CO. 
1901 


COPYRIGHT  1901 
Bv  GERTRUDE  POTTER  DANIELS 


Donald  ant) 


THE  THREE 

WHOSE  FAITH  IN  ME 

IS  UNLIMITED 


2227822 


CHAPTER  I. 

AT  fifteen  minutes  past  six  o'clock  in 
the  evening  Cyrus  arrived  home 
from  the  factory;  at  seven  to  the 
minute  he  sat  down  to  a  solitary  supper  of 
his  own  cooking.  His  menu  was  not  large 
or  varied,  but  it  was  substantial  and  it  suf- 
ficed. For  years  this  meal  had  taken  place 
at  the  same  hour ;  in  fact,  it  marked  the  begin- 
ning of  his  independence — an  independence 
whose  progress  was  slow  but  was  yet  prog- 
ress. He  never  ate  without  remembering 
the  past  and  how  he  had  worked  up.  His 
satisfaction  over  his  "working  up"  was  su- 
preme ;  for  his  boyhood  had  been  very  dubi- 
ous. 

Until  Cyrus  had  moved  into  a  room  that 
he  called  his  own  his  appetite  had  not  been 
catered  to  fully  or  regularly;  sometimes  his 
food  was  doled  out  to  him  at  back  doors; 
sometimes  he  picked  bits  out  of  garbage 
boxes ;  oftener  he  went  hungry.  The  sensa- 
tion of  emptiness  in  early  years  was  so  com- 
mon that  consciousness  of  it  had  ceased  to 
7 


THE  WARNERS. 

annoy  him — it  was  part  of  existence  to  be 
hungry.  Likewise  he  had  gone  without  the 
gratefulness  of  all  personal  comforts;  all  re- 
laxations, and  enjoyments.  A  home,  the 
warmth  of  a  fire,  the  sense  of  satiety  in  any 
form  he  had  never  known.  His  clothes  were 
either  too  large,  or  too  small.  Nothing  ever 
matched.  There  were  too  few  garments  in 
the  winter ;  in  summer  he  wore  what  he  had 
because  they  were  his  all — a  mass  of  filthy 
rags  and  patches  clinging  to  his  little  body. 
When  he  slept  it  was  in  some  odd  corner  not 
too  far  away  and  always  well  hidden  from 
the  sight  of  prying  eyes.  Here,  twisted  into 
a  cramped  and  uncomfortable  position  on  the 
bare  stones,  Cyrus  would  fall  into  an  imme- 
diate and  profound  slumber  overcome  with 
exhaustion ;  lying  inert  hour  after  hour,  for- 
getting in  this  brief  oblivion  the  gnawings,  the 
pains,  the  wearinesses  of  the  days.  Up  again 
before  the  sun  had  fairly  a  chance  to  show 
its  face,  the  boy  would  rise  yawning  and  rub- 
bing the  sleep  from  his  eyes,  then  stretching 
his  stiff  little  legs,  was  off  to  the  office  for 
his  papers,  alert  with  the  persistence  of  youth. 
Through  the  long  days  of  varying  heat 
8  ' 


THE  WARNERS. 

and  cold  he  cried  himself  hoarse  with  head- 
line horrors.  When  he  was  not  selling  papers 
he  blacked  boots  and  with  the  indomitable 
will  of  one  who  has  a  fortune  to  seek,  the 
boy  managed  to  make  a  living.  Even  more, 
for,  child  of  the  street  as  he  was,  Cyrus,  by 
degrees,  became  possessed  of  very  definite 
notions  of  life ;  also  of  two  distinct  and  colos- 
sal ambitions. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  trace  the  instincts 
that  gave  this  boy  his  desire  for  riches  and 
an  education;  but  the  desire  was  there  as 
ungovernable  as  the  winds  that  blow.  No 
manner  of  hard  luck  could  bend  or  break  his 
insistence  concerning  these  ambitions.  He 
was  blind  to  all  the  difficulties  that  assailed 
him.  He  felt  no  inadequacies.  He  set  his 
mind  and  hardened  his  will,  and  redoubled  his 
strength  to  meet  his  purpose,  seeing  in  each 
day  a  nearer  completion  of  his  tremendous 
ideas. 

These  ambitions  may  have  been  inborn 
from  the  father  whom  he  had  never  seen,  or 
the  mother  he  had  never  known — the  one 
good  thing  they  had  left  this  boy  of  theirs  for 
inheritance ;  the  only  kindness  they  had  ever 
9 


THE  WARNERS. 

shown  him.  And  with  the  mysterious  knit- 
ting together  of  the  lines  of  fate,  they  be- 
came the  fine  fabric  around  which  the  rest 
of  his  character  wove  its  pattern  of  good  and 
evil. 

Naturally  he  had  not  the  time  to  go  regu- 
larly to  a  place  of  learning,  but  for  all  that 
bit  by  bit  Warner  did  master  the  first  rudi- 
ments of  reading,  writing  and  arithmetic.  It 
was  a  fierce  struggle ;  literally  a  hand-to-hand 
wrestle  with  every  word,  every  line,  every 
figure.  But  again  that  was  life  and  he  was 
in  no  way  cowed. 

These  notions  of  his  as  to  right  and  wrong 
Cyrus  mapped  into  shape  according  to  ob- 
servance of  his  own  making.  His  rules  were 
simple  and  concise.  But  each  rule  had  its 
reason  and  through  them  Cyrus  adjusted 
himself  to  conditions.  He  never  permitted 
himself  to  lose  his  temper,  because  he  had 
never  seen  violence  displayed  to  a  man's  ad- 
vantage. He  never  fought,  his  private  belief 
being  that  educated  men  dreamed  instead  of 
pummeled.  Liquor  was  left  untouched  be- 
cause it  cost  money. 

Tossed  hither  and  thither  through  the  mael- 
10 


THE  WARNERS. 

strom  of  a  city,  these  notions  were  not  always 
easy  of  practice.  It  was  only  by  first  prov- 
ing his  prowess  that  he  was  given  liberty.  He 
had  to  fight  to  keep  from  fighting. 

It  was  a  curious  thing  that  half-starved 
as  he  was  and  deprived  of  everything  neces- 
sary to  make  bone,  sinew  and  flesh,  Cyrus 
yet  continued  to  flourish.  He  shot  up  tre- 
mendously, as  though  the  life  agreed  with 
him. 

At  sixteen  he  stood  six  feet  in  his  stock- 
ings, and  looked  taller  because  of  the  ex- 
treme leanness  of  his  body.  His  face  would 
have  been  homely  but  for  its  expression  of 
gentleness.  His  forehead  was  straight  and 
high,  the  eyes  large  and  brilliant.  His  mouth, 
too,  was  large,  but  determined.  In  fact,  it 
was  this  feature  that  gave  character  to  the 
boy's  whole  countenance.  His  hands  and 
feet  were  enormous,  his  strength  prodigious 
— a  dangerous  strength  had  his  nature  been 
belligerent,  a  force  with  his  ideas  of  self-gov- 
ernment. Cyrus'  mind  kept  pace  with  his 
body.  He  was  slow,  ponderous,  docile  and 
very  just. 

It  was  when  he  had  reached  his  eighteenth 
II 


THE  WARNERS. 

birthday,  as  near  as  he  could  count,  that  he 
was  taken  on  at  the  factory.  He  left  the  un- 
certainties of  the  street  to  become  one  of  the 
"hands,"  and  it  seemed  that  his  chance  had 
come  at  last.  That  one  move  marked  the 
period  of  many  important  changes.  First  and 
foremost  he  took  possession  of  HIS  ROOM. 
Once  there  he  shut  the  door  firmly  in  the  face 
of  haunting  poverty. 

This  room  served  as  an  entire  apartment 
to  Cyrus.  It  was  on  the  top  floor  of  a  tene- 
ment; a  tiny  box  of  an  affair,  with  two  dor- 
mer windows  under  the  eaves,  and  a  ceiling 
that  half  the  way  across  would  not  permit 
the  man  to  stand  erect  in  his  full  height.  At 
five  o'clock  every  morning  he  awakened  to 
the  preliminary  work  of  the  day.  He  lighted 
his  oil  stove,  filled  the  kettle  and  started  the 
water  to  boiling.  While  this  was  in  progress 
he  threw  the  bedclothes  back  over  a  chair 
with  one  of  the  dormer  windows  wide  open 
for  air.  He  thumped  his  pillows  and  his 
mattress  vigorously,  replaced  the  clothes 
carefully,  then  took  his  cleaning  cloth  and 
pail  out  from  under  the  bed.  Warner  never 
wiped  up  with  a  dry  duster,  but  sopped  and 

12 


THE  WARNERS. 

pottered, continually  wringing  the  rag  out  in 
the  water  until  everything  steamed  and  reeked 
with  dampness.  Then  he  gave  himself  to  the 
cooking  of  his  breakfast.  Sometimes  an  egg 
or  a  piece  of  salt  pork,  with  a  boiled  potato ; 
generally  a  pot  of  coffee  and  a  crusty  roll 
bought  the  night  before  at  the  bakery  around 
the  corner. 

After  he  had  eaten  he  washed  the  dishes, 
flinging  all  the  dirty  water  out  of  the  window 
into  the  back  lot. 

Breakfast  over,  Cyrus  betook  himself  to 
the  factory  where  he  worked  all  day,  thinking 
over  the  conveniences  and  the  comforts  of 
his  room,  and  wondering  if  he  could  ever 
hope  for  anything  much  better.  Not  that 
there  was  much  better  to  have,  for  as  it  was 
everything  lay  at  his  finger  tips.  He  lacked 
nothing.  His  furniture  was  great ;  there  was 
a  bureau  with  two  drawers,  and  a  place  on 
top  for  a  wash  bowl  and  pitcher.  There  was 
a  cot  bed,  the  first  bed  that  he  had  ever 
slept  on ;  a  wonderful  thing,  long  enough  to 
hold  him  any  way  he  lay ;  a  marvel  of  softness 
and  warmth,  where  he  dreamed  in  the  stupe- 
faction of  enjoyment.  Two  stiff-backed  and 
'3 


THE  WARNERS. 

rickety  chairs,  rigid  and  military,  stood  side 
by  side  against  the  wall.  These  chairs  were 
continually  getting  in  the  way.  Yet  Cyrus 
cherished  them.  He  could  never  have  en- 
tertained without  them.  For  decoration 
Warner  had  secured  three  remarkable  calen- 
dars and  two  chromos.  The  chromos  were 
companion  pieces.  One  represented  a  bril- 
liant sunset  over  a  green,  darkening  land- 
scape; the  other  was  a  scene  at  dawn  with 
woods  and  birds  and  in  the  distance  a  glimpse 
of  purple  water.  But  what  appealed  to  Cyrus 
closest  was  his  library.  These  volumes  were 
arranged  in  a  swinging  shelf  over  his  bed, 
where  his  eyes  could  rest  on  them  at  night 
and  open  upon  them,  directly  in  the  morning. 
He  regarded  them  with  a  tenderness  that  was 
pathetic ;  in  fact,  their  possession  seemed  un- 
real, somehow  representing  a  link  between 
his  desire  for  knowledge  and  the  knowledge 
itself,  and  they  never  lost  their  hold  on  him. 
The  sight  of  them  dispelled  the  illusion  of 
failures  and  disappointments  and  brought  an 
actual  completion  of  education  within  pos- 
sibility. 

But  the  satisfaction  of  a  home  and  posses- 
14 


THE  WARNERS. 

sions  did  not  make  Cyrus  extravagant,  or  for- 
getful of  his  ambitions ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
became  miserly.  He  starved  himself  as 
closely  as  he  could  and  still  preserve  strength 
enough  to  continue  with  his  work.  He  suf- 
fered considerably  from  the  cold;  he  prac- 
ticed every  small  economy  he  could  think  of, 
and  pinched  and  saved  and  went  without.  The 
results  of  this  penuriousness  were  self-evi- 
dent. At  twenty  he  opened  a  bank  account ; 
the  deposit  he  made  was  not  a  large  begin- 
ning; still  it  was  a  beginning.  In  fact,  that 
twentieth  year  of  his  was  one  remarkable  with 
many  surprises.  He  began  geography  at 
home ;  at  the  factory  he  received  a  raise  in 
position  and  an  increase  in  salary;  also,  he 
met  HER. 

She  was  a  very  little  thing,  very  pretty  and 
a  stenographer.  How  she  could  read,  and 
write,  and  spell !  It  was  a  fascinating  sight, 
and  it  won  Cyrus;  at  least,  at  first.  After- 
wards he  loved  her  because  he  could  not 
help  it.  The  fellow  had  never  seen  just  such 
a  woman  as  Betty  Martin.  It  happened  the 
morning  he  was  called  into  the  General  Man- 
ager's office  to  receive  his  raise.  There  she 
IS 


THE  WARNERS. 

sat,  taking  down  a  letter  that  the  Manager 
was  dictating  as  fast  as  the  words  would  fall 
from  his  lips.  But  nothing  phased  her;  she 
wrote  on  and  on. 

While  Cyrus  waited  for  the  Manager's  at- 
tention he  watched  her.  Her  hair  was  a 
mass  of  curls  coming  out  all  about  her  face, 
and  piled  up  in  a  heap  in  the  back ;  when  the 
sun  fell  strongly  on  it  there  was  a  glint  of 
red  like  a  miniature  reflection  of  the  orb 
itself.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  dark;  her 
skin  was  white,  transparent  and  with  tiny 
threads  of  veins  showing  plainly. 

"Too  white,"  was  Cyrus'  mental  comment  ; 
"I'll  give  her  a  rest  and  the  country " 

The  thought  brought  a  quick  flush  to  his 
own  face.  Before  it  died  away  the  Manager 
turned,  and  the  revery  ceased.  But  it  was  at 
that  first  glance  that  Cyrus  decided  the  future 
of  both  himself  and  Betty. 

When  one  is  poor  the  monotony  of  exist- 
ence passes  unnoticed.  It  takes  riches  to 
create  ennui.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that 
after  that  meeting  with  Betty  Martin,  life  as- 
sumed proportions  that  had  never  before  en- 
tered into  Cyrus'  mind.  It  was  the  first  time 
16 


THE  WARNERS. 

he  had  ever  been  in  love,  but  the  woman  at 
last  had  entangled  herself  in  the  man's  line  of 
fate,  and  there  altered  destiny.  He  began 
promptly  to  starve  himself  more  severely. 
Warner's  constitution  was  something  he 
prided  himself  on;  his  ability  to  endure  pain 
was  immense;  so  he  imposed  upon  himself 
to  hurry  the  future.  Waiting  was  well  enough 
up  to  a  certain  length  of  time,  beyond  that 
limit  his  patience  rebelled.  He  wanted  her 
dreadfully.  In  truth,  the  thought  of  possess- 
ing her  was  too  entrancing  to  dwell  upon 
safely.  If  it  had  only  been  a  mere  matter  of 
strength !  But  there  was  something  else  in- 
volved. It  never  entered  the  man's  mind 
that  he  could  propose  to  a  girl  without  suffi- 
cient income  to  support  her.  He  had  learned 
what  that  brought — the  tenement  taught  it 
with  a  thoroughness  not  to  be  avoided. 

So  he  pinched  harder,  and  squeezed,  and 
went  hungry  and  allowed  himself  only  a  part 
of  Sunday  for  recreation.  All  the  other  days 
in  the  week  he  worked  from  seven  until  six. 
He  suffered  miserably,  yet  these  periods  of 
toil  were  lightened  occasionally  by  glimpses 
of  Miss  Martin  spelling,  writing,  playing  on 

V 


THE  WARNERS. 

that  machine  with  the  utmost  unconcern.  The 
very  rattle  of  the  keys  was  music  to  Cyrus' 
ears,  because  it  was  she  who  played.  It  did 
not  trouble  the  man  that  she  paid  no  heed  to 
him — that  probably  she  was  not  conscious  of 
his  existence.  Knowledge  of  his  presence 
would  come  in  due  course  of  time. 

Cyrus  had  waited  for  the  arithmetic  and 
the  reader  and  the  geography — especially  the 
geography.  They  had  all  come ;  even  IT  had 
come.  He  had  learned  the  science  of  waiting 
complacently. 

About  this  time  a  fellow  was  taken  or  at 
the  factory  with  whom  Cyrus  struck  up  an 
immediate  friendship.  This  was  contrary  to 
Warner's  habits — he  had  found  that  friend- 
ships were  exacting  and  expensive !  generally 
he  kept  clear  of  them,  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  Kirby  that  was  impressive  because 
it  was  peculiar. 

He  was  a  thin,  delicate-looking  chap,  with 
a  nervous,  active  body  and  a  face  that  showed 
the  ravages  of  temper.  Extreme,  excessive 
temper — a  temper  that  rode  through  his 
strength  with  a  whirlwind  of  fury,  and  shat- 
tered all  the  vitality  that  could  be  got  to- 
'  18 


THE  WARNERS. 

gather  in  his  body.  Naturally  it  was  a  fearful 
hindrance.  It  kept  the  man  almost  contin- 
ually out  of  a  job.  It  was  this  that  made  him 
come  and  go  empty-handed  and  poor,  will- 
ing to  take  what  he  could  get.  Kirby  was 
neither  an  ignorant,  nor  an  incapable  man ;  he 
had  simply  sacrificed  everything  to  his  master 
fury. 

It  may  have  been  the  discovery  of  Kirby's 
schooling  that  caught  Cyrus;  at  any  rate, 
the  two  became  intimate.  They  were  so  in- 
separable that  in  time  Kirby  moved  his  be- 
longings over  to  the  house  where  Cyrus'  fort- 
ress was  situated.  He  took  a  room  on  the 
same  floor,  only  across  the  hall,  and  settled 
down  as  a  neighbor. 

It  came  about  in  this  way  that  their  daily 
routine  was  changed,  as  their  devotion  to 
each  other  increased.  They  took  turns  at 
cooking  the  seven  o'clock  supper;  afterward 
they  spent  the  evening  together.  Sometimes 
they  walked  in  the  glare  of  the  noisy,  busy 
streets,  jostling  with  the  crowd,  Kirby  talking 
loudly  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  girls. 
\Yhen  they  turned,  showing  their  teeth  and 
tossing  their  heads,  he  would  call  at  them, 
19 


THE  WARNERS. 

grinning  facetiously.  Kirby  was  a  heavy 
joker  in  his  lighter  moods.  Other  evenings 
the  two  would  sit  at  home  smoking  pipe  after 
pipe  of  tobacco,  discussing  the  problems  of 
the  day  and  their  own  individual  interests. 

Gradually  Kirby  discovered  Cyrus'  ambi- 
tions; his  desire  for  an  education,  his  greed 
to  be  somebody.  At  the  same  time  Warner 
awakened  to  Kirby's  inclination  toward  so- 
cialism. And  it  was  a  big  awakening.  It 
brought  confusion  to  his  mind.  Never  had 
Cyrus  heard  just  such  ideas  or  just  such 
language  as  Kirby  used.  Sometimes  it  made 
him  shiver  and  chill  when  Kirby,  calling  down 
the  curses  of  the  living  God  to  smite  the 
bodies  of  the  rich,  would  announce  that  but 
for  the  capitalists  he  and  Cyrus  would  be  rid- 
ing in  carriages  of  their  own,  with  money  to 
burn.  Then  Kirby,  seeing  the  effect  of  his 
words,  followed  up  his  points  remorselessly. 
Excited  by  his  own  noise,  he  would  continue 
a  tirade  of  abuse.  He  shouted  and  yelled 
until  the  master  fiend  roused  itself  in  self- 
defense,  and  what  was  commenced  in  a  good- 
natured  discussion,  would  finish  in  a  fiery  and 
disastrous  exhibition  of  oratory. 
20 


THE  WARNERS. 

It  left  Kirby  limp,  faint,  and  in  spasms  of 
exhaustion.  Cyrus  was  frightened.  At  the 
same  time  he  had  to  acknowledge  to  himself 
that  he  was  profoundly  impressed.  It  was  a 
hideous  complication  that  assailed  him.  All 
his  theories  of  life  were  swept  away.  He 
could  not  even  recall  exactly  what  they  were. 
He  clasped  his  head  with  his  hands.  "I  can't 
believe  it — it  is  not  possible — wait,  wait, 
Kirby!  You  say  they  drive  us  down?" 

He  was  terribly  upset.  Everything  in  the 
man's  nature  rebelled  against  what  he  had 
heard;  but  repetition  drove  it  home.  After 
a  time  he  began  to  see  through  the  haze  of 
his  confusion,  then  he  wondered  if  perhaps 
capitalists  were  as  black  as  Kirby  pictured. 

Argument  did  not  come  easily  to  Cyrus, 
but  he  could  not  rest.  He  had  to  fix  this 
question  somehow.  After  much  mental  labor 
Warner  settled  it  according  to  his  observance 
of  rich  people.  They  did  not  live  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  grinding  down  the  working 
class.  He  knew  that.  Besides,  education 
taught  broadness — all  the  rich  were  educated. 
That  was  a  stopper  to  Kirby's  assertions,  and 
a  stopper  that  no  oratory  could  pull.  But  in 

21 


THE  WARNERS. 

spite  of  this  difference  of  opinion,  and  Cyrus 
clung  tenaciously  to  his  point  of  view,  War- 
ner was  loyal  to  Kirby  in  everything  else. 
More  than  once  by  sheer  force  of  tact  he 
saved  the  wretchedly  tempered  man  from 
losing  his  place  at  the  factory.  In  gratitude 
for  this  service,  Kirby  offered  to  assist  Cyrus 
in  his  studies.  After  that  the  socialistic  har- 
angues, and  the  stock  phrases  of  clap-trap 
politicians  came  with  less  frequency.  Also 
because  of  what  Kirby  was  doing  for  him, 
the  greatest  in  all  the  catalogue  of  great 
things,  Cyrus  became  his  devoted  friend. 
There  was  nothing  the  one  could  ask  that  the 
other  would  not  do;  they  were  closer  than 
brothers ;  they  were  pals. 

The  student  made  great  strides  in  his  edu- 
cation; and  it  was  due  more  to  his  learning 
than  anything  else  that  year  by  year  small 
promotions  came.  Finally  there  was  a  good 
promotion,  another  raise  of  salary.  His  bank 
account  was  growing;  Cyrus  considered  the 
situation,  and  confessed  that  the  time  to  ad- 
dress Miss  Martin  was  ripe. 


22 


CHAPTER  II. 

THAT  question  involved  the  most  im- 
portant and  the  most  serious  oper- 
ation of  Cyrus'  life.     He  had  seen 
Betty  daily  now  for  almost  two  years.   Betty 
the  demure,  Betty  the  charming.     Dressed  in 
her  simple,  trim  and  dainty  garments,  with 
her  hair  curling  down  over  her  ears  and  fore- 
head, she  made  a  picture  that  fascinated  the 
heart,  as  well  as  the  eye. 

Cyrus  was  sure  her  hair  was  redolent  with 
the  spices  of  Araby.  He  had  never  pen- 
mitted  himself  an  approach  near  enough  to 
discover  this  for  a  fact;  it  was  one  of  his 
dreams.  He  adored  the  way  she  held  her- 
self. He  began  to  know  by  the  very  expres- 
sion of  the  eyes  whether  she  were  sick  or 
well  or  tired  or  fresh.  Her  hands,  small, 
delicate  fingered  hands,  became  in  his  sight 
the  most  perfect  thing  the  world  possessed. 
The  very  fact  that  she  was  a  woman  touched 
him  to  the  heart,  for  she  was  THE  woman, 
the  tender,  fragile  woman,  whom  he  in  time 
23 


THE  WARNERS. 

was  to  be  called  upon  to  shield,  protect  and 
support.  That  was  a  dazzling  thought,  only 
to  be  met  complacently  by  a  man  of  knowl- 
edge and  means. 

He  sat  thinking  of  this  one  evening;  in 
fact,  of  late  he  had  been  thinking  of  it  contin- 
ually, when  Kirby  came  in.  Kirby  had  been  to 
a  meeting,  a  gathering  in  some  hall,  where  he 
had  spoken  until  shouting  reduced  his  voice 
to  a  whisper.  He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
Cyrus'  cot,  talking  rapidly.  After  a  long 
time  he  asked  abruptly:  "Cy!  what's  up?" 

The  sudden  appeal  troubled  Warner.  The 
situation  was  uncomfortable.  Kirby  was  sure 
to  ridicule  him,  and  just  now  that  was  more 
than  he  could  bear.  But  he  had  no  idea  how 
to  evade  the  orator.  There  was  a  dead 
silence  for  a  moment,  Cyrus  feeling  very 
helpless. 

"Come  on,  Cy,  out  with  it,"  pursued  Kirby. 

So  Warner  confessed — fully  and  com- 
pletely. The  more  he  talked  the  easier  it  be- 
came. Kirby  sat  listening  intently,  his  white 
anaemic  face  ghastly  under  the  shock  of 
black  hair  that  hung  about  it  loose  and 
stringy. 

24 


THE  WARNERS. 

"You  want  to  meet  her,  huh?  That's  the 
game?" 

Cyrus  nodded. 

"That's  dead  easy;  I  can  fix  it.  Shall  I? 
Eh!" 

Cyrus  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  rush:  "Do 
you  mean  it,  Kirby?  You  are  not  joshing 
me."  The  revulsion  of  feeling  that  stirred 
in  him  was  tremendous. 

"Joshing?  What  in  hell  should  I  josh  for, 
eh !  Women  are  a  big  nuisance,  but  if  you 
want  to  meet  this  one,  why  it's  none  of  my 
funeral.  Of  course  I'll  fix  it.  It's  dead  sim- 
ple." He  was  very  certain.  It  was  a  swing- 
ing, scornful  certainty.  Kirby  knew  and  un- 
derstood women. 

Cyrus  looked  at  him  dumbly,  in  full  and 
unconcealed  admiration.  How  was  he  to  do 
it  ?  This  man  could  accomplish  it  if  any  one 
could,  but  how  would  he  go  at  it  ?  Of  course 
Kirby  was  good  for  anything  if  he  said  so. 
The  orator  was  a  great  man,  and  no  mistake 
about  that. 

Cyrus  did  not  question;  he  felt  that  to  ask 
Kirby's  methods  after  such  an  offer  would  be 
far  from  delicate.  Warner  attempted  to  utter 
25 


THE  WARNERS. 

some  phrases  of  thanks.  Kirby  disclaimed 
them,  with  great  superiority ;  he  felt  his  mag- 
nanimity, but  he  made  a  great  pretense.  He 
was  always  willing  to  see  a  friend  through, 
and  he  and  Cy  were  pals,  weren't  they — eh  ? 

Cyrus  went  to  bed  in  a  state  of  happiness 
bordering  on  the  imbecile.  He  found  him- 
self lying  awake,  thinking  of  her,  and  of  what 
was  to  come,  and  the  wonder  of  it  all.  From 
out  of  the  darkness  all  about  him  her  face 
shown  sweet,  pale,  sympathetic,  smiling  upon 
him,  and  he  smiled  back.  He  was  caught  in 
the  mesh  of  her  fascinations,  and  he  yielded 
without  a  struggle.  In  fact,  it  was  all  de- 
licious. To  be  a  man  and  to  have  a  woman, 
a  charmingly  pretty  woman,  THE  WOMAN 
— depending  on  you  for  all  the  happiness  and 
comfort  life  brings,  is  an  exhilarating  affair. 

Cyrus  gave  his  cot  a  thump.  "We'll  have 
a  spring  and  a  hair  mattress,"  he  said  aloud 
with  great  satisfaction.  After  many  hours  he 
fell  asleep. 

Kirby  managed  the  introduction.     He  said 

that  he  would,   and  he  kept  his  word ;  but  it 

was  not  all  as  Cyrus  would  have  liked.     In 

the  first  place  it  was  rather  a  bold  proceeding 

26 


THE  WARNERS. 

on  Kirby's  part.  He  had  never  spoken  to 
Miss  Martin  before.  This  was  not  delicate 
of  Kirby.  Had  Cyrus  dreamed  of  such  a 
possibility  he  would  not  have  permitted  the 
rudeness  to  Betty,  the  demure.  In  his  heart, 
however,  he  was  glad  he  had  not  known,  for, 
in  spite  of  the  method,  it  was  still  an  intro- 
duction ;  a  passage  of  words  that  gave  him  the 
liberty  of  addressing  her. 

She  was  as  demure  in  speech  as  she  was 
in  appearance;  she  had  none  of  those  high 
spirits  and  loud  ways  and  flippant  manners 
that  pass  often  for  vivacity.  She  was,  in- 
stead, rather  quaint  and  very  gentle.  Cyrus 
thrilled  under  her  soft  voice ;  it  was  so  exactly 
as  he  would  have  had  it.  It  was  eminently 
the  voice  that  he  would  like  about  his  home — 
the  home  that  he  was  to  purchase  some  time 
for  her  as  well  as  for  himself. 

That  night  he  lay  awake  again.  The  en- 
trancing visions  that  showed  themselves  in 
his  fortress  after  dark  were  not  to  be  missed. 
It  was  a  white  cottage  with  green  blinds,  set 
in  a  comfortable  yard,  that  visited  him.  And 
as  it  floated  above  him  quite  as  plainly  as 


THE  WARNERS. 

reality  could  have  made  it,  he  heard  her  voice 
distinctly,  calling  to  him,  of  course. 

Those  night  dreams  that  from  now  on  be- 
came regular  occurrences  took  Cyrus  quite 
out  of  the  narrow,  day-in-and-day-out  monot- 
ony of  factory  life.  They  broadened  his  view, 
expanded  his  imagination  and  gave  him  an 
ambition  for  other  things  than  merely  an  edu- 
cation. He  put  the  screws  on  harder;  there 
were  days  now  when  he  suffered  from  actual 
and  acute  hunger.  He  worked  over  hours 
when  he  could  and  was  filled  with  an  enor- 
mous joy  when  he  had  enough  put  aside  to 
warrant  a  trip  to  that  savings  bank — not  for 
himself  was  this  miserly  habit  acquired,  not 
at  all.  It  was  that  every  day  he  liked  Betfy 
better  and  better.  She  took  complete  posses- 
sion of  him ;  it  became  a  matter  of  resistance 
every  time  he  was  with  her  to  keep  down  ex- 
pressions of  his  infatuation.  He  was  bewil- 
dered, dizzy,  with  the  thought  of  obtaining 
what  seemed  so  inaccessible,  but  so  neces- 
sary. His  life  centered  on  Betty  and  their 
home;  so  he  hoarded  for  her  and  for  it — his 
wife  and  the  cottage.  It  was  a  magnificent 
incentive  to  suffer  and  to  work  for. 
28 


THE  WARNERS. 

But  the  incentive  could  not  keep  away  the 
marks  and  ravages  of  what  Cyrus  was  doing. 
He  grew  so  thin  that  his  cheek  bones  rose 
high  in  their  places ;  he  had  a  pinched,  drawn 
look  that  gave  a  pathetic,  heart-breaking  ex- 
pression to  his  face,  for  he  always  smiled.  Be- 
side this,  he  was  living  in  a  strained  atmos- 
phere of  constant  exaltation  that  sucked  his 
vitality  to  the  source.  One  day,  while  he  was 
in  the  midst  of  his  factory  work,  without  the 
least  warning,  he  fell  down,  lying  white  and 
cold  and  inert.  He  was  in  a  complete  faint, 
this  great  man  of  strength.  He  was  carried 
into  the  manager's  office,  Kirby  following  in 
a  state  of  high  excitement,  giving  orders  at 
every  step.  Betty,  the  demure,  left  her  ma- 
chine ;  she  knelt  beside  the  long,  prostrate  fig- 
ure and  bathed  the  man's  head  with  her 
coarse  little  kerchief,  stopping  occasionally  to 
chafe  his  big,  thin  hands,  with  her  perfect 
little  ones. 

Kirby  was  in  a  great  state.  In  his  own 
way  he  had  a  strong  fondness  for  this  Cyrus ; 
this  gentle,  unsophisticated,  big-hearted  Cy- 
rus. He  approved  entirely  of  Miss  Martin's 
course  of  action  in  this  reviving,  but  he  was 

2Q 


THE  WARNERS. 

not  pleased  with  her  personally.  It  was,  in 
fact,  all  her  fault  that  Cyrus,  the  strong,  was 
thus  reduced — he  guessed  he  knew  how  his 
friend  was  starving  himself  and  why — all  for 
this  girl,  who  was  a  hell  of  a  nuisance,  any 
way  you  put  it.  It  would  end  in  her  killing 
him  yet. 

When  Kirby's  mind  had  reached  this  con- 
clusion his  temper  Began  to  assume  com- 
mand; it  also  began  to  talk  through  Kirby, 
wildly,  crazily  and  insultingly.  He  did  not 
care  what  he  said : 

"Huh,  you  think  you're  great,  I  suppose, 
sitting  there  slobbing  that  man  with  a  wet  rag. 
You  think  you're  deceiving  me,  don't  you, 
but  you  ain't;  not  a  bit.  I  know  he's  sweet 
on  you,  so  do  you,  and  you're  playing  him  for 
a  fool.  He's  starving  himself  for  you.  You'll 
probably  pretend  that's  news.  But  it  ain't: 
why  else  should  he  be  cutting  up  a  woman's 
trick  like  this.  If  you  carry  this  thing  too  far, 
you  want  to  look  out.  This  is  my  friend,  my 
pal.  I  won't  stand  one  side  and  see  him  mur- 
dered in  cold  blood  by  a  white-faced  thing 
like  you.  I  won't,  by  God !" 

Betty's  face  had  gone  red,  then  very  white 
30 


THE  WARNERS. 

again;  her  hands  trembled.  But  she  did  not 
get  up,  and,  stranger  still,  she  took  no  of- 
fense. Presently  Cyrus'  eyes  opened  heav- 
ily ;  they  looked  into  her  great  eyes ;  he  saw 
something  there  that  startled  him;  his  blood 
began  a  rapid  course  through  his  chilled  body. 
He  wished  he  could  lie  there  forever,  star- 
ing up  at  her. 

Kirby  spoiled  it  at  once.  He  leaned  over 
and  assisted  Cyrus  to  a  chair,  pulling  the 
great  fellow  around  easily.  Cyrus  wondered 
vaguely  at  so  much  strength  in  such  a  lank, 
lean  body. 

Immediately  Miss  Martin  resumed  her 
work.  The  manager  suggested  Cyrus'  laying 
off  a  day,  but  Warner  cast  the  idea  aside  with 
a  laugh — he  had  been  strengthened  beyond 
any  need  of  laying  off,  although  his  knees  still 
shook  and  his  body  was  numb. 

He  got  up  presently  and  went  to  work, 
Betty's  eyes  always  before  him.  The  pres- 
sure of  that  perfect,  delicate-fingered  hand, 
still  to  be  felt  on  his  wide  forehead.  But 
more  wonderful  than  all  this  was  yet  to  hap- 
pen. That  evening  she  waited  for  him.  She 
made  a  great  show  of  putting  on  her  gloves, 
31 


THE  WARNERS. 

but  a  keen  observer  would  not  have  been 
misled.  As  he  came  down  the  steps  past  the 
office  door,  she  whispered  with  her  eyes 
turned  away  from  his : 

"Eat  more,  please ;  I  want  you  to." 


CHAPTER  III. 

AFTER  that  she  spoke  every  day.    She 
never  looked  at  him,  and  that  troubled 
Cyrus.    It  was  such  an  effort  for  him 
to  keep  his  eyes  away  from  her ;  such  a  feast 
when  he  was  permitted  to  look.    Should  she 
not  feel  the  same  way  if  she  cared?     Cyrus 
was  not  knowing  in  the  ways  of  women.     If 
he  had  been  he  would  not  have  troubled  about 
her  bashfulness. 

At  last  there  came  a  Saturday  night  when 
he  got  up  great  courage  and  asked  Miss  Mar- 
tin if  she  would  walk  in  the  park  with  him 
the  next  afternoon.  He  had  rehearsed  the 
speech  over  and  again  for  weeks — it  was  the 
preliminary  of  the  courting — the  first  shot  to- 
wards the  cottage  with  the  green  blinds.  He 
had  never  planned  nor  prepared  for  a  refusal ; 
nor  did  he  receive  one,  after  he  floundered 
through  the  invitation.  Yet  her  acceptance 
upset  him  terribly.  He  could  scarcely 
breathe,  and  the  sensation  of  suffocation  did 
not  wear  off  for  hours. 
33 


THE  WARNERS. 

He  was  up  and  down  half  the  night  to 
watch  the  weather.  By  lying  prone  his  full 
length  on  the  floor  he  could  just  get  a  peep 
at  the  sky  from  out  of  his  windows,  and  the 
stars  up  there  wheeling  around  in  their 
course.  When  he  could  see  one,  he  gave  a 
sigh  and  went  back  to  bed  in  peace.  Once  he 
lost  all  sight  of  them.  It  was  a  tragedy.  Of 
course  it  was  clouding  up — probably  would 
storm  terribly  all  day.  That  was  apt  to  make 
her  superstitious — women  were  born  super- 
stitious. If  the  weather  was  not  propitious 
for  that  first  outing,  she  might  believe  that 
fate  was  dead  against  them.  There  was  no 
telling  how  women  regarded  these  things. 

He  spent  a  wretched  fifteen  minutes,  then 
he  looked  again.  Up  between  the  steep  walls 
blinked  a  little  point  of  light.  It  was  there 
bright,  beautiful  and  clear,  thank  Heaven ! 
How  could  he  have  imagined  a  storm  was 
imminent.  For  fear  of  another  such  fright 
he  took  his  pillow  and  blanket  from  his  cot 
and  lay  on  the  floor  until  daylight,  his  face 
looking  up  into  the  face  of  the  Heavens. 

Cyrus  called  for  Betty  at  three  o'clock; 
precisely  three.  That  was  the  time  she  had 
34 


THE  WARNERS. 

set.  He  was  at  the  corner  below  an  hour 
earlier,  but  he  presented  himself  at  the  door 
only  when  he  was  told  he  might.  Never  had 
he  been  so  nervous,  or  so  intensely  happy. 
The  day  was  perfect ;  warm  enough  to  make 
an  overcoat  a  nuisance. 

Betty  came  down  looking  adorable.  She 
was  in  her  best  things,  naturally,  it  being 
Sunday.  Cyrus  hitherto  had  only  viewed  her 
in  her  office  garments.  She  was  charming  in 
those,  but  absolutely  irresistible  now. 

As  he  stepped  along  beside  her,  he  was 
suddenly  filled  with  grave  apprehensions. 
Surely  she  was  not  for  him.  He  was  so  awk- 
ward, so  colossal,  and  somehow  so  unlovely. 
He  was  a  fool  to  hope  that  she  could  care 
for  him.  He  was  so  evidently  out  of  place 
beside  this  little  woman. 

When  this  knowledge  took  possession  of 
him,  he  began  to  be  assailed  with  huge 
doubts,  the  contrast  between  them  was  so 
hideous.  How  could  this  dainty,  refined  bit 
of  a  woman  ever  look  upon  him  with  favor? 
It  was  impossible.  His  size,  his  gait,  his 
awkwardness,  his  lack  of  personal  beauty  all 
told  against  him.  He  had  never  considered 
35 


THE  WARNERS. 

these  things  before ;  now  they  were  upper- 
most in  his  mind.  Everything  else  shrank 
away  from  him.  He  was  breathless  with  dis- 
gust as  he  squinted  down  upon  himself. 

Betty,  however,  appeared  to  be  taking  his 
defects  calmly ;  in  fact,  she  did  not  seem  to  be 
aware  of  them.  From  time  to  time  she  raised 
her  splendid  eyes  and  looked  him  in  the  face. 
Directly  this  occurred  Cyrus  lost  the  drift  of 
all  he  was  saying  and  stammered  horribly; 
yet  he  enjoyed  those  glances. 

Presently  they  sat  down  upon  the  grass ; 
the  sunshine  was  delicious ;  so  was  the  air. 
All  at  once  a  kind  of  faintness  crept  over  the 
man;  he  was  suddenly  conscious  that  he  was 
near  her — very  near  her — near  enough  to 
catch  the  perfume  from  her  hair.  The  spices 
of  Araby  were  there,  surely ;  they  hypnotized 
him. 

From  that  moment  Cyrus  Warner  was  less 
hounded  by  thoughts  of  self-denunciation.  He 
had  little  idea  of  anything  that  happened  or 
of  anything  that  was  said.  He  kept  wanting 
to  do  something;  something  immense,  some- 
thing wonderful ;  something  that  from  sheer 
strength  or  manliness  should  put  him  from  a 
36 


THE  WARNERS. 

masculine  standpoint  on  an  equal  footing 
with  this  delicate  creature.  He  wanted  to 
make  her  proud  of  him ;  but  no  opportunity 
for  such  an  achievement  arrived.  It  seemed 
to  him  a  dastardly  trick  of  fate  to  deny  him 
this  privilege.  Until  he  could  prove  himself 
he  had  no  right  to  love  and  aspire  "to  this 
perfect  being.  It  was  sacrilege. 

His  silence  kept  Betty  very  busy  of  tongue. 
She  enjoyed  everything  thoroughly  and  ex- 
pressed her  pleasure  by  infectious  little 
laughs  and  a  great  deal  of  merry  talk.  She 
said  nothing  of  much  import,  but  Cyrus  hung 
on  her  words  bewitched.  Oh,  he  was  very 
much  in  love,  this  man!  Very  seriously  in 
love. 

At  half-past  five  he  took  her  home.  It  had 
only  been  a  minute  since  they  started  out. 
He  was  sure  of  it.  The  clocks  said  five-thirty 
— they  lied;  so  she  took  out  her  watch.  He 
believed  that,  because  the  time-piece  belonged 
to  her ;  but  he  asserted  loudly  that  the  hands 
might  have  dropped;  it  could  not  be  five- 
thirty — it  was  absurd! 

Then  she  did  laugh,  and  he  joined  in.  When 
he  could  catch  his  breath  long  enough  to 
37 


THE  WARNERS. 

speak,  he  asked  boldly  if  he  could  take  her 
out  again  next  week.  She  hesitated  just  a 
moment;  then  she  called:  "Yes,  if  you  will 
believe  the  clocks." 

He  roared  again — she  was  the  acme  of  wit. 
He  finally  returned  to  his  fortress  in  a  high 
state  of  vibrating  happiness.  What  a  day  it 
had  been — what  a  day ! 

At  nine  o'clock  that  same  night  Kirby  ar- 
rived outside  Cyrus'  door.  Ordinarily,  Cyrus 
would  have  been  in  bed  and  asleep  at  that 
hour  on  Sunday.  This  evening,  instead,  he 
was  reading  his  geography  by  the  light  of  a 
candle. 

"All  right,"  he  called  in  response  to  Kirby's 
cry;  "come  in,"  and  Kirby  entered. 

He  had  been  busy  at  oratory  again  to- 
night ;  but  he  had  not  his  usual  color  and  ag- 
gressive manner — the  aftermath  of  his 
speeches.  He  was  breathing  short  and  look- 
ing sheepish. 

"What's  up?    Any  trouble?"  said  Cyrus. 

"Oh,  no;  what  trouble  should  I  be  in?"  He 

crossed  his  legs,   looking  about  the   room. 

Every  once  in  a  while  he  sighed  noisily  and 

stirred  in  his  chair — it  was  very  evident  that 

38 


THE  WARNERS. 

he  wanted  to  be  questioned  about  some- 
thing. 

"Did  you  speak  at  the  show?" 

"Rather." 

"Well,  what's  the  row?  There's  some- 
thing up.  Let's  have  it  straight." 

"You  thought  I  could  spealc,  didn't  you? 
Everybody  who's  ever  heard  me  thought  I 
could  speak,  didn't  they — huh?" 

Cyrus  nodded.  "I  have  never  heard  to  the 
contrary." 

"Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  I  wish  you'd 
been  with  me  tonight.  Talk  about  speakin' 
— I  ain't  in  it.  I  never  touched  a  speech.  I 
don't  know  what  the  word  'speakin' '  means ; 
but  there's  a  woman — God,  that  woman ;  you 
never  heard  anything  like  it !  She  can  talk ! 
I  am  beat,  and  down  with  my  hands  tied  be- 
hind me,"  and  then,  in  answer  to  Cyrus' 
astonished  face,  the  orator  settled  himself  and 
continued.  He  gave  a  complete  outline  of 
what  he  had  heard,  and  his  own  position. 

"She  come  out  there  and  stood  up  before 
us — a  room  full — and  I  said  to  my  neigh- 
bors, 'Oh,  Gee;  what's  this,  anyhow,  a  mis- 
sionary meeting?'  She  wasn't  bigger'n  a 
39 


THE  WARNERS. 

minute,  and  pretty — well,  she's  the  prettiest 
thing  in  the  shape  of  a  woman  I  ever  came  up 
against.  She  wasn't  flustered — and  did  she 
know  her  business?  Well,  did  she!  That's 
all  I  can  say — did  she?  She  didn't  speak 
loud ;  never  roared  once ;  but  Gee  whiz !  how 
she  did  land  words.  Cy,  she  lammed  the  cap- 
italists something  immense.  The  Bloody 
Shirt  dripped.  All  I  can  say  is,  she  can  have 
me ;  and  that  any  time  she  says  the  word.  I 
ain't  givin'  myself  away  every  day,  either. 
Lord,  what  a  team  we'd  make — the  two  of 
us — there's  money  in  us  for  somebody." 

Kirby  stopped  and  mopped  his  face.  He 
could  see  himself  and  a  fine  future  vividly. 
He  would  improve  his  ideas  with  hers,  and 
take  her  tricks  of  expression ;  this  coupled 
writh  his  delivery  and  his  explosive  epithets 
would  make  an  irresistible  combination.  A 
low  tone  was  well  enough  for  a  time,  but  it 
took  his  voice  to  stampede  a  meeting  in  the 
long  run.  Dimly,  as  though  he  looked 
through  a  mist,  Kirby  saw  himself  leading  a 
vast  concourse  of  men — men  of  toil,  men  of 
strength,  men  of  the  down-trodden  class. 
They  rose  in  a  mass  to  follow  him.  It  was 
40 


THE  WARNERS. 

not  a  place  for  a  woman  that  he  saw.  It  was 
a  man's  place — his  place.  Ah,  he  would  lead ! 
Those  white-collared  slaves  of  indolent  ease, 
who  bossed,  and  controlled  and  murdered, 
would  learn  who  he  was  and  what.  Also  in 
this  vision,  but  in  the  background — back  of 
him — he  perceived  that  woman;  her  face 
alight  with  admiration  for  him;  her  mouth 
closed  under  the  spell  of  what  he  was  saying 
for  them  both.  It  was  a  triumphant  pano- 
rama. 

All  this  time  Cyrus  sat  bewildered;  never 
had  he  known  Kirby  to  be  like  this  before. 
There  was  a  cold  pause.  Kirby  was  in  a 
queer  fix  sure,  but  for  once  Cyrus  could  not 
sympathize.  In  his  silent  communion  with 
Betty  this  noise  and  furore  found  no  place. 
He  became  uneasy  and  perturbed  by  Kirby's 
ranting  voice.  Finally  it  drove  all  his 
thoughts  to  riot  and  scattered  his  dream. 
After  that  he  sat  in  sullen  silence,  wishing 
the  fierce-tongued  orator  would  go  to  bed. 

Kirby  sat  and  sat;  he  talked,  and  talked 

and    got    excited.     His    face    flushed,    and 

dripped  until  he  was  like  a  lathered  animal. 

Probably  in  its  way  it  was  a  remarkable  flow 

41 


THE  WARNERS. 

of  language ;  but  it  dizzied  Cyrus.  He  tried 
not  to  listen.  He  did  not  want  to  listen ;  but 
where  was  the  escape?  The  orator  had  been 
deprived  of  his  applause  at  the  meeting,  so  he 
appealed  to  his  pal.  He  had  to  talk.  It  was 
a  physical  need. 

"I  want  my  rights.  You  want  yours. 
We've  been  played  for  suckers  long  enough. 
Where's  the  laboring  man  goin'  to  stand, 
huh?  There's  got  to  come  a  day  of  reckon- 
ing, and  then  we'll  see.  I'll  be  there — so'll 
you — so'll  the  capitalist ;  but  he  won't  be  IT 
that  day.  This  is  called  'Free  America,'  ain't 
it?  Who's  free? — you,  me,  the  fellow  who 
works?  I'd  like  to  know.  It's  the  rich  that's 
got  the  cinch  on  freedom,  but  some  day  the 
workingman'll  rise  up  and  find  out  he  wants 
the  cinch.  See?  Huh!  Then,"  he  shouted, 
rising  and  pounding  the  cot,  "we'll  see.  I'll 
be  there.  You  can  count  me — Kirby — in. 
The  working  man  don't  know  his  business 
yet.  He's  too  easy.  But  you  wait.  I'm  in 
this  game.  In  to  stay;  and  I'm  doing  some- 
thing besides  shouting,  too,  by  God.  You 
just  wait.  We  ain't  all  dubs,  by  a  damn 
sight." 

42 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Shut  up,  Kirby.  You're  shouting  now. 
Go  to  bed.  I'm  sleepy."  Cyrus  got  up  and 
gave  Kirby  a  good-natured  shove.  Out  in 
the  street  a  clock  struck  twelve.  Kirby,  re- 
minded of  the  time,  yawned  and  stretched. 
"All  right,  Cy."  The  orator's  voice  subsided 
at  once.  "But  you  watch  me.  I'll  lift  the 
yoke  yet.  I  won't  stand  by  forever  and  see 
the  life  crushed  out  of  labor  by  these  tyrants. 
Good  night."  Yawning  and  growling,  Kirby 
disappeared  down  the  hall. 

Immensely  relieved,  Cyrus  closed  and 
locked  his  fortress.  He  undressed  slowly,  re- 
joicing in  the  quiet  and  solitude.  But  Betty 
was  gone  for  tonight.  The  visions  and 
dreams  would  not  be  coaxed  back.  Kirby 
had  frightened  them  with  his  tirades.  Vainly 
Cyrus  lay  staring  wide-eyed  and  waiting  there 
in  the  darkness. 

"The  fool's  spoiled  my  whole  evening.  She 
does  not  like  what  he's  been  saying;  so  she 
won't  come.  Damn  it  all,  I  don't  blame  her. 
I  don't  like  it  myself." 


43 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CYRUS'  courtship  progressed  without 
his  appreciating  it.  Every  Sunday 
afternoon  Betty  and  he  walked  to- 
gether. He  continued  to  call  for  her  at  three 
o'clock  and  Betty  would  meet  him  flushed  and 
smiling  and  ready  to  enjoy  everything.  When 
it  stormed  the  two  visited  art  galleries  and 
museums.  She  pointed  out  the  pictures  that 
caught  her  fancy  and  he  promptly  admired 
them,  trying  to  use  words  that  would  not 
come.  When  the  weather  permitted  they 
strolled  through  the  park  or  took  long  cable 
car  rides,  always  sitting  on  the  front  seat  of 
the  grip;  that  necessitated  some  squeezing 
and  brought  them  very  close  together.  The 
first  time  that  this  happened  she  blushed  to 
the  tips  of  her  ears,  and  Cyrus  had  been  pain- 
fully embarrassed  ;  but  afterward  they  laughed 
and  joked,  never  thinking  of  changing. 

These  rides  were  flashes  of  Paradise.     On 
the  grip  car  she  was  wholly  his.    There  she 
sat,  her  wonderful  eyes  aglow  with  pleasure, 
44 


THE  WARNERS. 

a  tinge  of  color  in  her  pale  face.  She  was 
sweet,  pretty,  adorable  above  all  other 
women ;  charming  him  into  an  humble  mas- 
culine submission  by  a  hundred  fascinations, 
all  her  own.  It  was  very  wonderful !  Life 
was  beautiful.  So  beautiful  that  he  could 
not  absorb  it  all.  How  he  longed  on  Sunday 
evenings  to  live  the  day  all  over  again  by 
himself !  But  that  bliss  was  denied  to  him, 
and  he  did  not  complain,  because  he  felt  that 
he  had  too  much  as  it  was.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain limit  to  happiness,  and  he  was  constantly 
uneasy  for  fear  he  would  overstep. 

The  meetings  of  the  socialists  continued. 
Every  Sunday  night  the  orator  went  to  Cyrus 
and  rehearsed  all  that  had  occurred.  Con- 
trary to  his  usual  methods,  however.  Kirby 
spoke  very  little  of  himself  and  a  great  deal 
of  that  woman.  She  had  made  a  big  effect 
on  him.  Her  name  was  Ida  Fisher :  she  was 
of  German  parentage,  and  was  a  wonder.  As 
far  as  Cyrus  could  discern,  she  was  always 
speaking.  That  was  her  life  "vocation," 
Kirby  announced,  watching  Cyrus  suspi- 
ciously to  see  how  he  took  the  word. 

It  was  a  habit  with  Kirby;  he  eyed  every 
45 


THE  WARNERS. 

one  except  Cyrus  suspiciously  when  he  talked. 
But  he  only  began  it  with  his  pal  when  Frau- 
lein  Fisher  was  mentioned. 

The  days  passed.  That  fall  Cyrus  Warner 
received  an  unexpected  advancement  in  posi- 
tion, with  an  increased  salary.  It  decided 
matters.  The  man  awakened  suddenly  to  find 
that  his  dream  was  a  reality.  It  was  here. 
He  had  enough  to  marry  on.  An  income 
sufficient  for  the  support  of  a  wife. 

He  laid  awake  all  night,  stunned  by  the 
suddenness  and  ease  with  which  it  had  finally 
happened.  He  had  waited  for  this  very  thing 
thirty  years,  yet  nothing  could  have  taken 
him  more  completely  unawares.  It  was  ex- 
traordinary; it  was  incomprehensible.  Next 
Sunday  he  could  tell  Betty.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary to  woo  any  longer.  He  was  in  a  posi- 
tion to  ask  her  to  face  life  with  him.  It  was 
Wednesday  now.  What  would  she  do  and 
say?  When  he  thought  of  this  he  became 
afraid.  It  was  a  fear  that  checked  his  joy, 
and  made  him  cold  and  uneasy.  He  had 
thought  of  her  as  his  future  wife  ever  since 
that  time  long  ago  when  he  first  saw  her.  It 
was  no  new  idea  to  him  :  but  with  her — prob- 
46 


THE  WARNERS. 

ably  she  had  never  dreamed  of  such  a  mar- 
riage— she  might  be  frightened  at  the  mere 
prospect.  Worse  still,  suppose  she  would 
have  none  of  him?  Of  what  use,  then,  would 
be  all  this  money  and  all  this  education? 
Without  her  there  could  be  no  cottage;  no 
future.  He  groaned  aloud,  fearfully  alarmed. 
How  could  he  wait  until  Sunday  to  settle 
matters. 

He  decided  finally  that  he  would  speak  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  That  was  it.  No 
waiting  for  him.  The  idea  pleased  him.  He 
would  have  it  out  and  settled  one  way  or  the 
other.  At  daylight  he  altered  the  plan.  He 
argued  the  matter  while  he  dressed  slowly. 
He  lighted  the  oil  stove,  and  stood  the  kettle 
over  the  blaze  without  remembering  to  fill  it 
with  water. 

If  he  was  to  lose  her,  he  wanted  to  post- 
pone the  loss  as  long  as  possible.  Best  not 
hurry  matters,  he  concluded.  He  would  wait 
after  all,  letting  things  take  their  course. 
Suddenly  he  remembered  the  kettle,  and  for 
a  second  his  mind  was  busy  with  household 
duties. 

Thursday,  Friday  and  Saturday  were  spent 
47 


THE  WARNERS. 

in  alternate  gloom  and  elation ;  he  was  hot 
and  cold  by  turns.  He  talked  the  situation 
over  every  night  with  Kirby.  Instead  of 
being  struck  dumb  as  Warner  had  imagined, 
Kirby  grew  strangely  sympathetic  with  his 
friend's  love  affair.  The  orator  listened 
eagerly.  Some  day — perhaps — he  would  ask 
a  woman  to  marry  him.  A  woman  who — 
who  was  in  accord  with  his  notions  of  life. 
Yes,  no  doubt  about  it,  it  would  be  a  woman 
who  spoke. 

"Ah,  you're  all  right,  Cy.  She  won't  play 
you  dirt.  I  just  wish  I  had  your  chance,  that's 
all." 

Cyrus  was  frightened.  "You  ain't  in  love 
with  her,  too?"  he  exclaimed,  aghast. 

"Shu!  what's  the  matter  with  you?  She 
ain't  the  only  girl,  is  she?  If  I  get  sweet  on 
any  one,  it'll  be  one  that  can  talk." 

Kirby  spit  this  out  between  puffs ;  he  was 
lighting  his  pipe,  feigning  great  abstraction. 

Cyrus'  eyes  rolled.  Being  in  love,  he  was 
terribly  acute  about  its  symptoms.  He  stared 
a  minute ;  all  at  once  he  shoved  out  an  enor- 
mous hand ;  there  was  a  big  grin  on  his  gentle 
face.  Kirby  stared  in  his  turn,  taking  time 
48 


THE  WARNERS. 

to  adjust  himself.  But  he  could  trust  Cy. 
They  pulled  together.  Both  men  rose,  and 
gripped,  wringing  each  other's  hands  silently. 
It  was  an  entire  .understanding  that  existed 
here.  What  a  fine  thing  a  friendship  was 
that  even  marriage  could  not  break !  That, 
no  matter  what  happened,  they  could  always 
be  pals. 

"Don't  get  weak.  Don't  give  in.  You're 
all  right,  Cy,"  was  Kirby's  parting  bracer  on 
Saturday  night. 

But  Cyrus  walked  miles  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing to  get  sufficient  courage  to  steady  his 
knees. 

It  was  another  heavenly  day,  clear  and  cool. 
Betty  wore  a  new  jacket.  It  fitted  her  trim 
little  figure  to  perfection.  But  her  loveliness 
made  the  man's  heart  sink.  If  only  she  were 
less  ideal,  a  little  rougher,  so  that  he  were 
more  on  a  level  with  her. 

Betty  pretended  not  to  notice  Cyrus'  em- 
barrassment. Yet  it  was  so  pronounced  that 
she  herself  became  uneasy.  He  stammered 
over  everything  he  tried  to  utter.  He  grew 
flushed  and  hot,  though  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing fiercely  from  the  northeast.  It  seemed  to 
49 


THE  WARNERS. 

him  that  the  difficulties  before  him  were  in- 
surmountable. 

They  got  off  the  car  at  the  far  limit  of  its 
run;  it  was  country  there,  with  a  patch  of 
woods  and  great  big  trees,  and  a  hint  of 
sweetness  in  the  air.  They  wandered  along 
side  by  side,  very  happy,  and  by  this  time 
not  constrained ;  still  they  were  a  trifle  uncer- 
tain. 

Cyrus  was  attempting  a  conversation. 
Every  time  he  began  to  talk,  Betty  raised  her 
eyes  and  listened,  very  much  interested.  It 
was  pleasant,  only  he  could  never  say  what 
he  wished  when  she  looked  at  him. 

"Wait  till  we  get  back  of  those  trees; 
then "  Cyrus  said  under  his  breath,  mak- 
ing a  strong  mental  resolve.  "Once  there — 
well."  But  back  of  those  trees  he  stopped 
and  stared,  his  mouth  opened  wide  in  blank 
amazement.  On  the  grass  sat  Kirby ;  by  his 
side  was  a  little  woman  with  an  unhappy, 
haunted  face.  Her  lips  were  constantly  quiv- 
ering; her  eyes  looked  at  everything  be- 
seechingly. 

Kirby  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Cy !  Ain't  this 
50 


THE  WARNERS. 

luck?"  The  orator's  face  had  gone  red  on 
the  instant. 

There  was  quite  a  flurry  of  excitement. 
The  men  shook  hands,  this  action  giving  them 
time  to  think.  The  women  viewed  each  other. 
A  sensation  of  pity  swept  over  Betty  the  de- 
mure, and  it  was  this  sensation  which  caused 
her  to  smile  adorably  when  Kirby  made  them 
acquainted. 

But  Cyrus  could  not  get  used  to  the  thing 
at  all.  He  looked  from  one  to  another  stu- 
pidly, completely  non-plussed.  It  was  here 
that  he  was  to  propose  to  Betty ;  now,  instead, 
he  was  one  of  a  party  of  people.  He  could 
not  think  of  a  thing  to  say.  He  had  no  idea 
what  to  do.  His  helplessness  was  complete. 
When  Kirby  nudged  him,  however,  Cyrus  did 
remember  to  take  off  his  hat  to  Miss  Fisher. 

The  women  seated  themselves ;  they  did 
not  rustle  their  skirts  and  giggle,  and  they 
displayed  no  tricks  to  call  to  themselves  the 
attention  of  the  men. 

"Wasn't  it  strange  that  we  should  have  met, 
way  out  here?"  said  Betty. 

"Every  Sunday  when  the  weather  is  fine 
Mr.  Kirby  and  I  come  out  here  for  a  few 
51 


THE  WARNERS. 

moments."     The  inflection  in  Ida's  voice  was 
very  gentle." 

"We  get  rested  here  before  we  have  to 
speak,"  said  Kirby. 

"Of  course.  I  wish  we  had  brought  a 
lunch;  we  could  have  had  supper  here  to- 
gether," said  Betty,  nodding  and  smiling  up 
at  Cyrus. 

His  face  had  been  blank ;  at  once  it  lighted 
into  being,  and  he  smiled  back.  "Sure — sup- 
per out  here,"  he  repeated. 

"We  love  picnics,  our  race.  They  are  dear 
to  the  German  heart,"  sighed  Miss  Fisher. 

"What's  the  matter  with  arranging  one — 
eh  ?"  shouted  Kirby,  alert  on  the  minute. 

"That  would  be  nice." 

"Just  us  four,  eh?" 

"Good  work " 

"But  the  weather — isn't  it  too  cold?  We 
might  wait  until  next  spring,  and  go  into  the 
woods."  The  strong  wind  carried  a  chill  in  it. 
Betty  shivered  as  she  spoke. 

"Certainly  it's  too  late  for  picnics,"  as- 
serted Cyrus,  expressing  his  first  coherent 
idea  since  this  unfortunate  meeting.  There 
was  a  pause. 

52 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Say,  Cy,  I  heard  of  a  great  thing  for  a 
fellow  that's  got  a  little  cash  he  wants  to 
blow.  It's  great." 

"What?" 

"Well,  Miss  Fisher's  got  a  brother  who 
ain't  strong;  he's  got  some  property  in  the 
south  of  this  State,  with  oil  on  it.  He  wants 
to  sell,  dirt  cheap.  It's  a  chance  for  a  fellow 
with  cash." 

The  idea  caught  Cyrus'  fancy;  if  it  was  a 
good  chance,  why,  he  had  cash. 

"Is  it  in  the  country?" 

"Oh,  Idunno.     How  is  that,  Ida?" 

Miss  Fisher,  thus  appealed  to,  explained: 
"Otto  has  consumption.  The  doctors  say  he 
must  go  away — West — if  he  wants  to  live.  It 
is  a  little  town,  a  village,  and  there  is  much 
oil  there.  My  brother  has  a  good  well,  only 
he  has  never  had  any  money  from  it  yet,  for 
he's  only  just  got  it  ready.  It's  too  bad.  He 
needs  money  awfully.  There's  a  home  on  the 
place.  A  cottage  with  six  rooms." 

"What  a  pity  he  has  to  leave  before  he  gets 
anything,"  said  Betty,  all  sympathy. 

"A  cottage? — white?"  Cyrus'  eyes  were 
burning.  This  was  a  startling  bit  of  intelli- 
gence. 

53 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Yes.  How  did  you  know?"  put  in  Miss 
Fisher. 

Cyrus  blushed  and  stammered.  Kirby  came 
to  the  rescue.  He  gave  a  labored  wink.  "Oh, 
Cy  knows  his  business,"  he  said.  Both 
women  laughed,  Betty  a  little  consciously. 

"I  haven't  any  money  saved.  If  I  had,  you 
bet  I'd  take  this,  good  and  plenty.  Be  your 
own  master,  is  my  idea.  No  working  for  a 
corporation.  No  being  ground  under.  No, 
siree.  That's  why  this  is  a  pipe.  Here  you 
are  oiling  for  yourself.  Selling  your  own 
products.  It's  a  big  chance  for  a  fellow  with 
cash." 

Cyrus  was  roused;  he  was  so  excited  with 
the  sound  of  this  opportunity  that  he  could 
not  keep  still.  It  seemed  to  be  so  exactly 
what  he  wanted.  He  was  afraid  some  one 
would  get  in  ahead  of  him.  Why  hadn't  he 
heard  of  it  before  ?  A  cottage,  white  too ; 
six  rooms!  Oh,  here  was  luck  if  he  wasn't 
too  late!  The  whole  dream,  entrancing  as  a 
fairy  tale,  come  true  in  a  minute.  The  future 
jumping  at  a  bound  into  the  present. 

He  made  Ida  promise  to  write  to  Otto  that 
very  night.  He  wanted  to  know  exactly  how 
54 


THE  WARNERS. 

things  stood;  if  it  wasn't  asking  too  much, 
he  would  like  a  plat  of  the  property  too;  so 
that  he'd  be  familiar  with  the  lay  of  the  land. 
He  had  some  money  laid  by,  and  perhaps — 
maybe — he  would  take  the  chance,  if  Kirby 
was  sure  it  was  all  right  and  Otto  would  come 
to  good  terms. 

"All  right!"  ejaculated  the  orator.  "Well, 
all  I  can  say  is,  I  wish  things  like  that  would 
come  my  way  just  once,  when  I  had  the  cash 
to  blow.  That's  all  I  wish." 

Betty  arose.  She  was  cold,  and  thought 
that  they  had  better  get  back.  Miss  Fisher 
and  Kirby  were  to  speak  that  night  as  usual 
at  a  hall  only  two  blocks  away.  Kirby  made 
a  sweeping  bow  to  Betty,  talking  easily  at 
the  same  time.  Cyrus  was  amazed  at  the 
orator's  grace  of  manner.  The  two  social- 
ists were  sorry  they  could  not  ride  to  town 
with  the  other  two.  Betty  echoed  the  regret, 
and  that  put  a  damper  on  Cyrus'  rising  spir- 
its. He  had  been  immensely  pleased  with  the 
turn  things  had  taken,  for  the  ride  home  left 
him  a  chance  to  speak.  But  he  said  he  was 
sorry  to  leave,  because  the  others  said  so,  and 
they  all  talked  at  once  when  they  said  good- 
55 


THE  WARNERS. 

bye.  Then  Betty  and  Cyrus  raced  for  the  car 
that  was  just  coming  out  of  the  barn,  and 
caught  it,  breathless  and  flushed.  In  spite  of 
the  cold  they  clambered  up  on  the  front  seat 
of  the  grip. 

"Were  you  sorry  they  couldn't  come?" 
asked  Cyrus  uneasily.  He  wanted  to  know 
the  worst  without  delay. 

Betty  did  not  answer,  but  something  in  her 
eyes  made  him  take  courage.  He  had  no 
words  ready,  so  he  plunged  into  the  thing 
desperately,  and  told  her  somehow  what  she 
was  to  him,  and  what  he  wanted  to  be  to  her. 

When  he  got  through  he  was  conscious  in 
every  part  of  his  big  frame  that  he  had  put 
the  matter  before  her  hideously.  What  girl 
could  consider  such  a  wretched  proposal? 
But  it  was  out,  and  he  waited  in  fearful,  terri- 
fying suspense.  Betty  turned  her  face  to  him ; 
it  was  radiant;  she  snuggled  herself  a  little 
closer. 

"You  dear  old  silly;  I  have  loved  you  ever 
since  I  found  you  were  starving  yourself  for 
me.  I  even  loved  that  noisy  Kirby  because 
he  told  me  about  it,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IT  was  quite  true ;  Betty  the  demure  did 
love  Cyrus.  She  laughed  to  herself  that 
she  had  concealed  it  so  cleverly.  The 
woman  instinct  in  her  had  divined  long  ago 
what  Cyrus  was.  She  saw  his  kindness  and 
the  bigness  of  his  heart ;  his  steadfastness 
and  moral  reliability.  She  knew  that  a  wom- 
an's life  with  him  would  be  exactly  what  the 
woman  herself  made  it.  His  wife  would 
always  be  his  influence ;  it  would  remain  with 
her  whether  the  future  held  happiness  or  dis- 
content. He  might  never  forestall  her  wishes, 
but  those  wishes  once  expressed  would  be 
carried  out  to  the  letter.  He  would  never 
seek  to  conquer  or  control,  and  yet  he  would 
always  command  respect.  His  gentleness  was 
his  strength.  His  determination  his  guide. 

Betty  had  no  qualms,  no  fears  about  trust- 
ing herself  to  him ;  there  were  no  risks  here. 
She  thanked  the  chance  that  had  thrown  them 
together,  and  she  loved  him  in  her  quiet,  deep 
way,  that  boded  well  for  what  the  future 
might  bring. 

57 


THE  WARNERS. 

Cyrus  saw  her  regularly  every  evening.  It 
was  not  exactly  courting,  for  he  never  men- 
tioned love.  It  was  characteristic  of  the  man, 
too,  that  he  never  kissed  her  face.  He  did 
not  smother  her  with  embraces  or  grip  her 
with  his  hands.  Occasionally  at  parting  he 
bent  down  his  height,  great  above  hers,  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  her  hair — that  curly  hair 
redolent  with  the  odors  of  Araby.  That  was 
all;  yet  he  often  had  a  desire,  an  intense  de- 
sire to  kiss  her;  but  somehow  he  could  not. 
It  seemed  an  indelicacy.  In  his  own  estima- 
tion he  was  so  coarse  and  heavy  and  clumsy, 
that  to  hold  her  was  like  the  crushing  of  a 
flower  in  some  monster  machine. 

Betty  understood  perfectly,  and  loved  him 
the  more  for  it.  These  things  convinced  her 
of  her  safety  with  him.  Then  what  evenings 
they  spent — all  confidences  and  plans !  And 
how  they  did  agree !  When  Cyrus  spoke  of 
the  white  cottage  Betty  was  enchanted. 

"I  can  cook,  Cyrus ;  really  I  can.  You 
would  not  think  it  knowing  my  work;  but  1 
can.  Oh,  it  will  be  so  nice,  a  home  of  our 
own.  I  have  always  wanted  one." 

"And  a  garden  with  geraniums?" 
58 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Yes,  and  sweet  peas.  I  love  those ;  don't 
you.  Oh,  oh,  it's  all  too  wonderful.  I  wonder 
when  we  will  hear  from  Mr.  Fisher.  I  love 
the  country,  Cyrus." 

Cyrus  had  written  about  the  well.  He  had 
exhibited  the  letter  with  huge  pride  to  Betty. 
She  read  it  all  through. 

"What  a  beautiful  hand  you  write,"  was  her 
first  remark. 

Then  Cyrus'  cup  was  filled  to  the  utmost. 
"If  Fisher  would  be  satisfied  with  half-pay- 
ment down,  a  mortgage  on  the  property  and 
the  rest  of  the  amount  in  semi-annual  install- 
ments, Cyrus  had  decided  to  take  the  bargain. 
He  wrote  to  that  effect. 

Kirby  had  assured  Cyrus  violently  that 
Fisher's  price  had  been  dirt  cheap,  by  God; 
clear  in  the  limit ;  and  Betty  had  clinched  the 
matter  by  saying :  "You  see,  Cyrus,  we  would 
have  our  home  and  your  business  there  all  to- 
gether. We  won't  have  to  be  separated  a 
minute." 

Clearly  it  was  a  great  all  round  stroke  of 
luck. 

Fisher,  however,  was  slow  in  answering; 
probably  because  he  was  ill  and  not  quick  at 
59 


THE  WARNERS. 

decisions.  Meanwhile  the  matter  was  dis- 
cussed nightly.  At  these  discussions  Cyrus 
forgot  his  uneasiness  of  mind  at  Fisher's  pro- 
crastination, giving  himself  up  completely  to 
the  fascination  of  Betty's  ideas.  Away  from 
her  he  fumed  and  fretted,  his  apprehensions 
assuming  enormous  proportions.  Fisher  was 
a  fool,  a  blackguard ;  he  would  never  answer ; 
he  had  led  Cyrus  on  to  make  the  offer  and 
then  had  changed  his  mind.  Perhaps  was 
laughing  up  his  sleeve  at  Cyrus'  simplicity  in 
thinking  he  would  let  go  of  a  good  thing. 
Worse  yet,  he  may  have  found  some  rich  man 
who  could  pay  the  full  amount  at  a  sitting. 
Oh,  these  capitalists,  how  they  were  continu- 
ally getting  into  the  laboring  man's  way ! 

So  Cyrus  nightly  worked  himself  into  a 
fever  that  told  on  him  more  than  those  peri- 
ods of  starvation. 

It  was  Fisher's  letter  that  was  to  decide 
their  wedding  day.  Under  such  conditions  a 
man  much  in  love  is  not  to  be  condemned  for 
ill-temper. 

At  last  it  came.  Cyrus  tore  open  the  en- 
velope. He  was  so  confused  he  could  not 
read  a  word. 

60 


THE  WARNERS. 

"What!  what!"  he  kept  exclaiming;  "I 
never  saw  such  writing."  The  letters  were 
swimming  upside  down ;  there  was  not  a 
straight  mark  on  the  page. 

He  was  at  the  factory;  he  tore  across  to 
Kirby. 

"Eh,  what's  this?"  said  Kirby. 

"A  letter — Fisher's."  Cyrus  had  never 
seen  Kirby  stupid  before. 

"Oh,  yes;  well,  what  does  he  say?" 

"That's  it,  that's  it — what  does  he  say? 
Read  it  out ;  I  can't  see." 

By  degrees  it  got  into  Kirby's  understand- 
ing what  was  wanted.  He  felt  his  importance 
immediately,  and  got  his  voice  into  his  pro- 
fessional orotund.  It  was  all  right — Fisher 
accepted  the  terms;  but  he  put  in  one  condi- 
tion, to  the  effect  that  the  cold  weather  was 
doing  him  so  bad  the  doctors  said  he  must 
go  away  at  once ;  therefore,  Cyrus  was  asked 
to  make  the  payment  and  assume  control 
without  delay. 

"How's  that  ?"  said  Kirby.  "Oh,  but  you're 
IT!" 

"All  right;  all  right,"  nodded  Cyrus.  To 
61 


THE  WARNERS. 

himself  he  was  saying,  "It  ain't  true  ;  I'll  wake 
up  pretty  soon.  It  ain't  true." 

But  it  was.  When  he  told  Betty  she  clapped 
her  hands.  They  were  getting  thin,  those 
perfectly  figured  hands.  He  saw  it,  and  rais- 
ing them  to  his  lips  he  kissed  them.  Cyrus 
was  to  write  that  night,  saying  he  would  come 
on  in  two  weeks. 

"I'll  tell  him  my  wife  and  I'll  take  posses- 
sion two  weeks  from  today,"  he  suggested. 
She  nodded  and  smiled  and  flushed.  Her 
happiness  had  entire  hold  on  her. 

"It  will  keep  me  busy.  I  have  been  getting 
some  of  my  things  made.  I  am  glad  now 
that  I  did.  Still,  I  have  more  to  get." 

Oh,  but  this  was  life,  glorious  life.  Betty 
had  managed  to  save  something,  too.  Out 
of  her  little  funds  she  purchased  her  trousseau 
and  left  some  to  help  furnish  the  cottage.  She 
gave  Cyrus  some  odd-shaped  packages  to  put 
in  his  trunk.  He  carried  them  to  his  fortress 
very  flustered.  The  strangeness  of  it  thrilled 
him  from  his  head  to  his  heels  and  set 
him  a-tremble  with  delight — carrying  her 
"things." 

They  were  to  be  married  at  the  minister's. 
62 


THE  WARNERS. 

Neither  the  bride  nor  the  groom  had  any 
family.  Kirby  and  Ida  were  to  be  present  in 
the  double  capacity  of  witnesses  and  guests. 

"Ida  is  like  one  of  the  family,  Cyrus.  We 
are  taking  her  brother's  home  and  well,  you 
see,"  said  Betty. 

Of  course,  Ida  was  closely  related.  Cyrus 
wondered  at  himself  that  he  had  not  remem- 
bered this.  The  ceremony  would  take  place 
at  twelve  o'clock ;  then  the  four  were  to  dine 
together  at  a  restaurant  Kirby  had  recom- 
mended. At  five  the  same  afternoon  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Warner  would  leave  for  their  future 
dwelling. 

Betty  attended  to  everything.  There  were 
not  many  details,  but  what  there  were  ren- 
dered Cyrus  useless.  By  forfeiting  a  week's 
wages  Betty  was  permitted  to  leave  the  fac- 
tory on  short  notice ;  but  the  day  she  and 
Cyrus  finished,  the  company  did  the  hand- 
some thing  by  them. 

In  a  little  speech  that  left  Cyrus  helpless 
with  embarrassment  the  manager  presented 
to  the  future  bride  and  groom,  in  the  name 
of  the  company  and  as  a  mark  of  appreciation 
for  their  joint  excellent  services,  an  entire  set 
63 


THE  WARNERS. 

of  dishes,  sixty-one  pieces.  These  were  to  be 
shipped  to  their  home,  expressage  paid  by  the 
company. 

Betty  received  the  present  charmingly.  She 
covered  Cyrus'  confusion  by  her  tact  and1 
graciousness.  Then  both  of  them  shook  the 
manager's  hand  and  thanked  him  for  his 
kindness. 

This  ordeal  over,  Cyrus  sighed  deeply  with 
relief.  He  did  not  dream  what  was  before 
him.  At  the  door  of  the  factory,  ranged  in 
a  double  line  that  extended  out  into  the 
street,  were  all  the  factory  hands.  Kirby  had 
marshalled  them,  and  was  waving  his  arms 
and  shouting  orders  from  the  head.  Here 
was  a  chance  for  exerting  his  powers  as  a 
leader  of  men. 

"Here  they  are.    Now,  then — sjjit  it  out!" 

Cheered,  jostled  and  joshed,  Betty  and 
Cyrus  marched  down  the  long  line.  At  their 
heads,  at  their  bodies,  at  their  feet  were  aimed 
showers  of  rice.  There  were  calls  and  good- 
wishes  from  every  one :  but  the  rice  was  para- 
mount. Betty  covered  her  face  and  ran; 
Cyrus  followed.  Never  had  he  been  so  com- 
pletely upset.  He  was  paralyzed.  What 
64 


THE  WARNERS. 

should  he  do  ?  What  was  expected  of  him  ? 
He  joined  in  the  fun.  He  tried  to  return 
joke  for  joke.  He  paused  to  poke  half  a 
dozen  men  in  the  ribs.  He  laughed  with  fear- 
ful sounds.  W'hen  he  was  finally  rid  of  that 
crowd  Betty  was  two  blocks  ahead.  He  was 
stinging  and  scratched  where  the  rice  had  hit 
him.  For  weeks  after  whenever  he  wore 
those  clothes  he  scattered  rice  as  he  moved. 
In  time  he  learned  to  look  back  upon  the 
episode  of  parting  as  a  tremendously  funny 
thing.  But  what  he  suffered  while  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  it  even  Betty  did  not  know. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NEITHER  Betty  nor  Cyrus  could  tell 
much  of  that  first  year  in  their  new 
home.  It  took  them  weeks  to  get 
really  settled.  Their  things  were  slow  in  com- 
ing. Extra  shelves  had  to  be  put  up  to  hold 
those  sixty-one  dishes.  Cupboards  that  Betty 
needed  for  kettles  and  pans  were  lacking.  It 
took  Cyrus  a  long  time  to  get  into  the  new 
work.  He  read  all  the  literature  on  oil  that 
was  obtainable,  and  the  more  he  read  the 
surer  he  became  that  he  had  a  good  thing. 

But  it  was  all  good  fun,  even  after  the  ex- 
cited happiness  of  the  honeymoon  had  drifted 
into  sober,  steadfast  contentment  and  house- 
keeping had  become  automatic.  These  two 
loved  each  other  as  a  man  and  woman  should 
love — he  seeing  a  divinity  worthy  of  worship 
in  her ;  she  knowing  him  to  be  a  noble,  gen- 
erous, high-souled  being  and  ready  to  mould 
her  personality  into  his.  They  were  never 
assailed  with  doubts ;  never  even  thinking  of 
such  a  thing.  There  was  no  disputing  of 
authority.  Betty  belonged  to  Cyrus ;  she  liked 
66 


THE  WARNERS. 

to  say  it  and  feel  it ;  yet.  womanlike,  knew  all 
along  that  it  was  she  who  ruled;  not  auto- 
cratically, but  with  love  The  initiative  in 
everything  came  from  her,  yet  Cyrus  was 
never  conscious  of  being  led. 

Betty  had  none  of  those  infinite  longings, 
none  of  that  homesickness  for  past  freedom 
that  is  so  paralyzing  to  a  young  husband. 
She  had  had  no  home  for  years.  She  had  no 
regrets ;  no  dreads  of  future  responsibilities. 
She  was  happy  and  she  made  him  happy ;  and 
happiness  and  love  settled  the  beginning  of 
their  life  together  into  adaptable  grooves. 
Betty  showed  after  a  little  practice  that  a  ste- 
nographer is  not  necessarily  a  poor  house- 
keeper; she  was  neatness  personified,  an  ad- 
mirable manager,  a  good  worker.  From  the 
windows  of  her  little  kitchen  she  could  see 
Cyrus  at  the  well.  She  would  stop  in  her 
baking  to  wave  at  him  or  call  out.  Then  he 
would  straighten  up  his  tall  form  from  his 
work  to  smile  back  an  answer.  She  sang  at 
her  cleaning,  carolling  about  the  House  all 
day,  like  a  bird ;  and  Cyrus  whistled — no  tune 
that  had  ever  been  heard  of  before,  but  ex- 
pressive in  its  tunelessness  of  his  complete 
67 


THE  WARNERS. 

content.  His  gentleness  increased  hourly. 
His  good-will  and  readiness  to  help  made  him 
popular  in  the  immediate  neighborhood.  By 
degrees  this  popularity  broadened  until 
Cyrus  Warner  was  one  of  the  best-liked  men 
in  the  town.  This  delighted  Betty;  she  glo- 
ried in  his  praises.  With  wonderful  tact  she 
added  to  this  reputation  of  his  by  deeds  all 
her  own,  for  which  she  received  no  credit  and 
wanted  none.  It  was  enough  to  her  that 
Cyrus  was  loved.  Oh,  it  was  a  dream,  this 
life  in  the  cottage.  It  was  all  either  one  of 
them  asked.  It  was  enough  for  any  one. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year  their  little  girl 
came.  When  it  was  over  Cyrus  went  all  to 
pieces.  He  cried  and  sobbed  like  a  child,  and 
Betty  at  the  other  end  of  the  house  cried  in 
sympathy.  The  nurse  brewed  a  cup  of  strong 
tea.  After  gulping  it  down  in  immense 
mouthfuls  that  burned  fearfully  all  the  way. 
Cyrus  felt  better.  He  tiptoed  into  the  bed- 
room where  Betty  lay,  very  white,  but  prettier 
than  ever  before,  smiling  a  greeting  at  him. 
The  sight  of  her  alive  and  well  unnerved  him. 
He  had  been  sure  she  would  die,  she  was  so 
delicate,  so  fragile.  He  had  had  no  courage 
68 


THE  WARNERS. 

at  all.  He  knelt  down,  putting  his  face  against 
her  hand,  speechless  with  emotion. 

Presently  he  tiptoed  out  again.  She  was  to 
be  guarded  against  excitement  and  visitors. 
He  lay  awake  all  that  night,  thanking  God 
that  she  was  spared  to  him.  Once  the  high 
wail  of  a  little  voice  came  out  to  him.  For 
a  moment  he  pondered  with  bewilderment, 
wondered  what  it  was  and  where  it  came 
from.  Afterwards  he  was  ashamed.  To  think 
he  had  forgotten  his  daughter — his  own 
daughter ! 

He  never  forgot  again.  As  that  little  mite 
of  humanity,  the  second  Betty,  grew,  every 
inch  of  her  stature  became  part  of  her  big 
father.  He  groveled  at  her  feet  in  abject 
adoration.  He  was  sure  there  had  never  been 
such  a  child.  She  never  took  her  mother's 
place  in  his  heart — no  one  could  do  that ;  but 
that  heart  expanded.  It  had  practically  taken 
possession  of  the  man's  body.  It  was  a  dif- 
ferent love  that  he  gave  these  two,  but  each 
was  as  strong  in  its  own  way  as  the  other. 
His  blessings  were  enormous.  He  was  over- 
whelmed with  what  had  come  to  him. 

The  well  paid;  its  store  of  oil  seemed  inex- 
69 


THE  WARNERS. 

haustible;  people  spoke  of  it  as  the  best 
"flower"  in  the  district,  and  the  semi-annual 
payments  were  met  regularly.  Of  course  it 
took  care  and  saving,  but  Betty  was  an  eco- 
nomical manager,  and  so  was  Cyrus  for  him- 
self. Penuriousness,  however,  took  a  differ 
ent  turn  when  pennies  were  put  away  from 
his  wife  and  baby.  Without  Betty's  guiding 
hand,  the  man  would  have  grown  extravagant 
for  her.  So  the  little  woman  saved  secretly 
from  her  housekeeping  fund,  putting  away 
quarters  and  half-dollars  until  she  hoarded 
quite  a  sum.  When  she  handed  the  amount 
to  Cyrus,  it  was  great  fun.  His  face  was  such 
a  study  on  these  occasions.  Then  she  would 
tell  him  just  to  wait  until  the  well  was  all 
their  own.  She  wouldn't  save  a  ce.nt  after 
that,  but  spend  everything.  Oh,  she  would  be 
extravagant  then ;  just  let  Cyrus  wait.  She 
announced  this  gaily,  taking  his  face  between 
her  hands  and  kissing  it. 

At  the  sound  of  her  merriment  the  baby 
would  totter  and  teeter  and  fall  against  her 
father's  knee  in  her  effort  to  be  taken  up 
and  petted.  Then  Cyrus  would  sit  down  and 
hold  both  of  these  little  women  of  his  own 
70 


THE  WARNERS. 

and  the  deliciousness  of  life  was  beyond  him. 
There  was  no  such  thing  as  time;  there  was 
just  the  sweetness  of  existence. 

Winters  and  summers  came  and  passed.  The 
life  of  the  Warners  went  on  in  its  accustomed 
grooves.  Both  were  perfectly  contented  with 
the  even  monotony  of  the  days.  At  long  in- 
tervals there  came  a  break  in  the  work.  Every 
fall  people  from  all  over  the  country  sent  in 
all  manner  of  exhibits  to  the  town.  Mon- 
strous cattle,  sleek  and  well  groomed;  abnor- 
mally fat  hogs,  only  a  few  months  old ;  pump- 
kins and  squash  that  resembled  some  ante- 
diluvian mammoth.  Patch-work  of  fearful 
design ;  hand-made  paintings,  usually  flowers 
or  fruit,  framed  in  plush;  silk  quilts  worked 
by  old  women  and  covered  with  impossible 
raised  flowers  done  in  chenille;  jelly,  pickles, 
canned  fruit. 

The  arrival  of  these  things  was  the  signal 
for  great  confusion.  All  day  there  was  a  per- 
sistent noise  of  sawing  and  hammering. 
Booths  went  up,  squares  were  fenced  off  for 
the  animals,  boxes  and  crates  littered  the 
street.  Women  stood  in  groups  chattering, 
laughing,  occasional  ends  of  their  conversa- 
71 


THE  WARNERS. 

tion  breaking  out  clear  above  the  murmur. 
The  crowd  increased  hourly.  Everywhere 
there  arose  a  vast  babble  of  noise ;  a  mingled 
roar  of  animals'  cries  and  human  voices. 

All  previous  air  of  village  quiet  and  relaxa- 
tion was  thrown  off.  Here  and  there,  like 
the  purring  of  some  enormous  cat,  came  the 
sound  of  machinery;  a  young  woman  from 
a  distant  city  spent  many  hours  a  day  bang- 
ing tunes  out  of  a  piano  that  had  various  at- 
tachments— a  zither,  a  banjo,  an  organ.  She 
explained  the  instrument  before  each  perform- 
ance. 

For  blocks  around  wagons,  buggies,  carry- 
alls were  lined  against  the  sidewalk  head  cm, 
the  horses  sleeping  all  day.  There  was  a  big 
hurry  of  business ;  clouds  of  dust  settled  over 
everything.  The  town  gave  itself  over  to  the 
county  fair,  and  bristled  with  noise  and  im- 
portance. 

Side-shows  hung  on  to  the  skirts  of  the 
exhibits.  There  was  a  circus,  where  acts  of 
all  kinds  astonished  the  audience,  every  after- 
noon and  evening.  In  the  morning  the  per- 
formers paraded  the  streets  behind  a  brass 
band ;  very  tired,  very  slovenly,  very  badly 
72 


THE  WARNERS. 

painted,  but  attired  in  a  bewilderment  of  gor- 
geous colors. 

Across  from  the  circus  tent  was  a  water 
tank  built  in  an  ungainly  wagon.  Flaming 
placards  announced  this  as  the  home  of  a  re- 
markable rhinoceros,  with  a  hideous  expanse 
of  mouth,  and  a  dangerous  disposition.  A 
man  stood  on  the  step,  urging  the  men  to 
bring  in  their  ladies  ;  admission  ten  cents.  He 
shouted  and  joked.  He  kept  every  one  in 
excellent  humor.  Crowds  stood  before  the 
wagon  all  day,  staring  at  first  one  poster 
then  another,  commenting,  shaking  their 
heads.  Occasionally  one  or  two  went  in, 
looking  foolish  and  feigning  great  uncon- 
sciousness. 

In  a  cage  the  size  of  a  room  sat  a  South 
Sea  Island  cannibal.  The  children  elbowed 
their  way  to  the  front,  peering  through  the 
wire  netting,  shuddering  while  they  looked. 
The  keeper  sat  on  a  raised  platform.  With 
huge  flourishes  of  his  arms  he  continually 
assured  them  that  the  creature  was  perfectly 
safe — even  affectionate  if  well  fed. 

To  prove  his  words  he  thrust  his  hand  be- 
tween the  bars  with  a  great  show  of  care- 
73 


THE  WARNERS. 

lessness,  and  whistled  at  the  same  time.  It 
was  a  tremendous  moment. 

By  the  second  day  order  was  evolved  out 
of  chaos.  The  people  in  the  village  knew  this. 
Year  after  year  it  was  the  second  day  of  the 
Fair  that  they  attended.  Cyrus  and  Betty 
and  the  baby  left  home  early.  As  they  ap- 
proached the  scene  of  operation  the  air  was 
full  of  many  odors — hay,  cigar  smoke,  steam- 
ing cattle,  cooking  coffee,  stale  vegetables. 
The  excitement  too  was  intense;  the  spirit 
of  rivalry  rampant  with  owners  of  squash  and 
turnip.  There  were  loud  discussions  between 
farmers  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  certain 
pigs  and  sheep. 

Every  now  and  then  a  restless  rooster 
would  pierce  the  air  with  its  shrill  crow. 

Cyrus  and  Betty  spent  the  morning  looking 
at  all  the  exhibits  carefully  and  commenting 
freely.  Every  little  while  they  paused  to  greet 
a  friend.  It  was  like  an  immense  party  with 
no  responsibility  attached. 

Old  Man  Shoyer,  the  wit  of  the  county, 

who  hadn't  missed  a  Fair  for  forty  years,  was 

on  hand.     He  was  one  of  the  sights,  and  knew 

it,  and  felt  hurt  if  he  wasn't  noticed.     Every- 

74 


THE  WARNERS. 

where  he  went  peals  of  laughter  followed. 
His  sayings  were  repeated  faithfully  over  and 
over. 

Shoyer  edged  up  to  Mrs.  Warner.  She  was 
looking  at  a  long  green  cucumber,  set  up  to 
resemble  a  snake.  There  were  black  beads 
put  in  for  eyes,  and  a  painted  mouth  from 
which  a  forked  tongue  protruded,  with  wild 
fierceness.  Shoyer  looked,  too,  mumbling  his 
lips  that  curved  in  instead  of  out.  Silence  fell. 
Every  one  waited. 

"If  I'm  any  jedge  o'  horseflesh,  Mis'  War- 
ner, that  cucumber  is  a  pretty  good  sarpint." 

Betty  smiled,  but  Cyrus  was  pleased  beyond 
measure.  He  roared  and  shouted.  A  crowd 
collected. 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"Mr.  Warner,  tell  us,  tell  us !" 

"Ain't  he  just  the  funniest  man." 

"Shoyer's  all  right,  by  gosh !  He's  all 
right." 

Cyrus  repeated  the  joke  all  day.  Whenever 
he  looked  at  an  exhibit  that  caught  his  fancy 
he  would  begin,  "If  I'm  any  jedge  o'  horse- 
flesh  "  then  shouted  again. 

Little  Betty  was  lifted  up  to  pat  the  cows. 
75 


THE  WARNERS. 

She  crowed  and  waved  her  hands,  squealing 
with  joy.  The  women  all  turned  to  look  at 
her.  Everywhere  there  were  murmurs,  "How 
sweet;  isn't  she  just  cute?  And  so  pretty." 

Cyrus  was  overcome  with  pride ;  his  face 
beamed.  "I  wish  there  was  a  baby  show,"  he 
said  to  Betty. 

The  Warners  had  lunch  at  the  Fair. 
Chicken  pie,  coffee  or  tea,  and  apple  or 
pumpkin  pie.  It  was  hot  and  good,  and  all 
you  paid  was  fifteen  cents  apiece.  The 
woman  who  served  it  commented  on  its  ex- 
cellence and  the  absurdity  of  the  price. 

"I  ain't  begrudgin'  nothin',  but  I  ain't 
makin'  money,  either,"  she  repeated.  "Still, 
I  wouldn't  miss  a  Fair  if  it  bankrupt  me  and 
my  ole  man  both." 

Cyrus  was  impressed.  He  ate  in  huge 
mouthfuls,  listening  and  nodding  sympathy 
over  his  fork.  When  he  was  through  he  was 
so  affected  that  he  gave  the  woman  half  a 
dollar — a  quarter  for  himself,  a  quarter  for 
Betty.  As  soon  as  they  had  eaten  they  hur- 
ried to  the  circus  tent.  It  was  too  early  for 
the  performance.  Rows  of  empty  benches 
ran  all  around  the  interior  except  where  the 
76 


THE  WARNERS. 

curtain  led  back  into  the  dressing  room. 
There  was  a  strong  smell  of  sawdust. 

"It  is  nice  to  rest  a  minute,"  sighed  Betty; 
"besides,  I  can  get  baby  to  sleep." 

Cyrus  got  out  his  pipe.  Betty  cuddled  the 
little  child  close  in  her  arms,  rocking  her  body 
to  and  fro,  singing  all  the  time  in  a  low  tone. 
The  racket  outside  was  a  subdued  murmur 
here. 

Presently  the  tent  began  to  fill  up.  Shoyer 
came  in  with  a  great  following.  The  report 
got  around  that  the  clown  was  going  to  try 
and  get  the  better  of  the  old  man.  His  pock- 
ets bulged  with  apples.  At  intervals  all 
through  the  afternoon  he  passed  the  fruit 
around  to  his  neighbors. 

It  was  a  great  performance.  Cyrus  could 
have  sat  there  forever.  The  barebacked  rider 
was  a  marvel ;  the  woman  on  the  trapeze  left 
him  breathless. 

"I  wonder  what  Shoyer  says  to  that!"  he 
gasped. 

Betty  couldn't  look  at  all.    It  made  her  cold 

to  even  think  of  the  danger.     The  trained 

bull  that  fired  off  a  pistol  astonished  them 

both.     "Don't  it  beat  all!"  Cyrus  exclaimed. 

77 


THE  WARNERS. 

"I  wonder  if  the  man  who  trains  him  is 
kind  or  cruel,"  murmured  Betty. 

Finally  there  was  a  brief  pause.  A  man 
stumbled  out  into  the  ring,  dressed  as  a 
tramp,  and  simulating  intoxication.  Cyrus 
was  disgusted. 

"They  ought  to  put  him  out.  He's  hurting 
the  show." 

At  once  the  tramp  began  to  appeal  to  the 
ringmaster  in  hoarse  whispers.  He  wanted 
to  ride — he  didn't  care  how.  He  knew  he 
could  beat  any  fellow  in  the  circus,  if  he  just 
had  a  chance.  The  ringmaster  tried  to  put 
him  off  by  speaking  quietly.  No  use;  the 
tramp  was  making  a  veritable  nuisance  of 
himself.  At  last,  to  the  amusement  of  the 
audience,  the  ringmaster  invited  the  tramp  to 
come  in  and  try. 

Then  there  was  excitement.  Betty  was 
dreadfully  uneasy. 

"He'll  get  hurt,  Cyrus;  I  know  he'll  get 
hurt." 

"Serve  him  right,"  returned  Cyrus,  his  eyes 
following  the  intoxicated  man  in  an  unblink- 
ing stare.  Even  Shoyer  was  speechless. 

After  great  efforts,  assisted  by  three  men, 
78 


THE  WARNERS. 

the  tramp  got  onto  the  horse.  He  swayed 
and  promptly  lost  his  balance.  He  fell  con- 
tinually, while  the  audience  cheered.  Sud- 
denly a  woman  shrieked.  Betty  looked  up ; 
instantly  her  face  flamed.  Something  was 
happening  to  the  fellow's  clothes.  He  was 
looking  around,  dreadfully  embarrassed. 
Something  terrible  was  sure  to  be  the  out- 
come if  they  didn't  look  out,  but  nobody 
seemed  willing  to  help  the  creature.  The 
men  howled.  Suit  by  suit  this  intoxicated 
tramp  was  shedding  clothes, — trousers,  coats, 
vests,  spun  through  the  air.  Finally  Cyrus, 
who  had  been  breathing  hard,  slapped  his 
knee  with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"Well,  by  gum!  He  fooled  me  pretty 
square.  He  fooled  the  whole  kit  of  us.  Won- 
der how  Shoyer  feels  now." 

Then  Betty  took  courage  and  looked  up. 
The  tramp  was  a  tramp  no  longer,  but  a  daz- 
zling young  man  in  blue  tights,  standing 
easily  on  the  horse's  back  and  making  grace- 
ful gestures  to  the  roaring  audience.  How 
he  had  fooled  every  one ! 

The  Warners  stayed  the  show  out.  Then 
on  account  of  little  Betty  they  went  home 
79 


THE  WARNERS. 

just  as  the  colored  lanterns  were  being  strung 
up  around  the  fairground.  It  was  a  great 
day.  The  two  discussed  it  in  detail. 

"Mercy,  how  I  felt  when  that  tramp  began 
to  take  off  his  trousers !"  said  Betty. 

Cyrus  howled  in  remembrance.  "Wasn't 
he  great !  And  those  women  on  that  high 
swing — I  tell  you  what,  that's  dangerous." 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  look  at  all.  Oh,  Cyrus,  it 
seems  almost  wicked,  doesn't  it,  for  girls  to 
have  to  risk  their  lives  just  to  amuse  people." 

And  Cyrus  was  quite  sure  it  was  most  un- 
fortunate. 

It  was  after  Betty  the  second  passed  her 
tenth  birthday  that  the  last  payment  was 
made.  Cyrus  and  his  wife  owned  their  cot- 
tage, owned  their  yard,  owned  their  well.  It 
was  all  their  own.  Only  years  of  close  sav- 
ing, hard  work  and  deprivations  had  made 
this  possible.  That  they  had  gotten  happiness 
and  contentment  out  of  those  same  years  did 
not  lessen  the  fact  of  their  toil.  Between 
times  they  together  had  fixed  up  their  home 
and  had  made  a  pretty  place  of  it. 

The  cottage  in  its  immaculate  white  and 
green  was  Cyrus'  pride.  He  painted  it  every 
80 


THE  WARNERS. 

second  year  with  great  care.  Betty  had 
trained  vines  and  creepers  up  the  front.  On 
the  side  was  a  rose-bed,  and  winding  above 
the  kitchen  windows  were  purple,  white  and 
pale-pink  Morning  Glories.  It  seemed  as 
though  the  sun  could  not  leave  this  cottage. 
It  was  shining  on  all  of  the  windows  all  of  the 
time.  Small  wonder  that  the  girl  Betty  out- 
grew all  her  clothes  and  that  both  she  and 
her  mother  sang  perpetually.  Sometimes  by 
dint  of  a  special  economy  they  were  able  to 
add  to  their  rather  scant  stock  of  furniture — 
a  rocking-chair,  a  book-case,  once  a  rug. 

Cyrus'  only  regret  in  all  these  years  was 
his  loss  of  Kirby.  A  few  months  after  the 
Warners  had  left  the  factory  Kirby  had  been 
discharged.  His  temper  was  fearful  when  no 
one  was  near  to  help  him  check  it.  He  wrote 
Cyrus  that  he  was  going  to  devote  himself 
entirely  to  speechmaking;  Ida  advised  it.  He 
felt  himself  that  he  was  cut  out  for  the  work. 
He  was  not  always  going  to  be  bound  like 
a  slave — not  he.  Also,  he  had  moved  away 
from  the  tenement ;  it  was  too  dull  there  with- 
out Cy.  But  he  forgot  to  give  his  friend  his 
new  address.  Cyrus  consulted  Betty ;  she  ad- 
81 


THE  WARNERS. 

vised  his  writing  an  answer  to  the  letter,  send- 
ing it  to  the  tenement;  but  he  received  no 
reply,  and  Kirby  was  not  heard  from  again. 
There  always  lurked  in  Cyrus'  mind  an  affec- 
tionate remembrance  of  the  fiery  tongued 
orator.  Probably  it  was  heightened  by  the 
stupendous  fact  that  Kirby  had  manipulated 
the  introduction  between  himself  and  Betty 
the  demure. 

Time  passed.  The  well  paid,  enough  for  a 
comfortable  living  and  something  sent  to  the 
bank  at  the  beginning  of  each  July  and  each 
January.  Cyrus  settled  down  into  a  kind  of 
premature  old-manship.  Betty  the  demure, 
pretty  and  dainty  as  ever,  worked  and  sang. 

Betty  the  second,  taller  than  her  mother 
and  quite  as  pretty,  was  becoming  wayward. 
She  adored  lovely  dresses  and  was  quite  con- 
tented not  to  work.  Sometimes  she  tossed  her 
head  and  made  eyes.  These  were  fascinating 
tricks  in  her  father's  sight,  but  the  mother 
looked  grave  and  a  bit  of  uneasiness  cast  its 
first  shadow  over  her  married  life. 

It  was  on  the  second  of  August  that  an 
important  fact  of  news  ran  through  the  town 
on  a  wave  of  excitement.    It  sped  on,  flying 
82 


THE  WARNERS. 

from  tongue  to  tongue.  Finally  it  reached 
the  cottage.  A  private  car,  with  an  engine 
engaged  especially  to  pull  it,  had  come  into 
the  station.  Mr.  Fellows — Anthony  J.  Fel- 
lows— had  arrived  to  look  their  village  aver. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IT  was  astounding.  Cyrus  came  into  the 
kitchen  and  delivered  the  gossip  to 
Betty.  Betty  the  second  was  there  listen- 
ing. She  clapped  her  hands  and  jumped  up 
and  down. 

"Take  me  to  see  it,  father!  Oh,  a  car,  all 
by  himself!  Think  of  it!  My,  my!  How  I 
would  like  it !  Does  it  take  a  million  dollars, 
father,  to  have  a  train  all  your  own  ?  Oh ! 
Oh!" 

Cyrus  yielded ;  he  always  yielded  ;  so  Betty 
ran  to  get  into  another  dress.  Before  she 
appeared  again,  another  bomb  was  dropped 
in  camp ;  Mr.  Fellows  sent  word  by  a  villager 
(had  given  him  fifty  cents  to  deliver  the  mes- 
sage) that  he  would  be  obliged  if  Mr.  Warner 
would  call  at  his  car,  "to  talk  business." 

Cyrus  was  terribly  troubled  on  the  instant. 
His  wife  was  correspondingly  proud.  "You 
see,  dear,  he  has  heard  of  your  success." 

She  helped  him  with  clean  linen;  she  put 
84 


THE  WARNERS. 

him  into  his  best  suit.  Betty,  the  child,  by  this 
time  was  dancing  with  excitement. 

"Take  me,  father,  oh,  do;  oh,  do.  You 
know  I  never  saw  such  a  thing.  And  to  go 
inside — oh,  father!" 

"Leave  your  father  alone,  Betty." 

"Mother,  please  let  me  go." 

"Yes,  I'll  take  the  child.  Am  I  all  right, 
Betty?  Which  hat  shall  I  wear?  What  do 
you  suppose  he  wants — eh?  Shall  I  just  talk 
right  out  as  though  I  was  rich  too?" 

Betty  encouraged.  She  told  him  how 
capable  he  was,  and  that  he  was  not  to  be  at 
all  embarrassed.  By  the  time  the  two  were 
off  the  mother  sat  down  exhausted.  She 
waved  to  her  daughter  from  the  porch,  think- 
ing how  like  an  exquisite  flower  the  child 
looked  in  her  thin,  pink  dimity  and  Her  hair 
blowing  curly  and  loose  about  her  face.  Her 
big  pink  hat  was  just  a  bit  awry.  She  jumped 
and  skipped,  keeping  tight  hold  of  Cyrus' 
great  hand.  The  mother  did  not  rejoice  in 
the  child's  attractiveness.  It  was  too  great; 
too  dangerously  great.  Perhaps  the  maternal 
instinct  sensed  danger.  One  cannot  explain 


THE  WARNERS. 

a  mother's  heart ;  it  has  a  sixth  sense  and  it 
warns  ahead  of  time. 

Mr.  Fellows  saw  Cyrus  on  the  station  plat- 
form at  once.  He  arose  and  went  himself 
to  the  door.  Cyrus,  still  leading  Betty, 
stepped  up  awkwardly.  In  his  left  hand  he 
held  his  big  straw  hat. 

"Come  in.  Come  in,  Mr.  Warner.  Hot 
day.  My  man  will  bring  us  a  glass  of  some- 
thing. Your  daughter?  What  a  charmingly 
pretty  girl." 

Cyrus  was  dumb ;  he  tried  to  speak ;  the 
result  was  an  unintelligible  mutter.  He  had 
no  knowledge  of  small  talk.  Preliminaries 
were  a  source  of  immense  difficulty. 

Mr.  Fellow's  eye-glasses  hung  on  a  small 
cord  suspended  about  his  neck.  He  twirled 
this  incessantly.  He  was  well  groomed,  clean- 
shaven, sleek. 

Inside  the  car  they  seated  themselves,  Betty 
pulling  herself  up  delightedly  on  an  elaborate 
chair,  looking  everywhere,  her  eyes  sparkling, 
her  fact  radiant. 

All  at  once  she  glanced  at  a  couch  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room;  a  man  lay  stretched 
out,  eyeing  her  impudently.  He  was  a  young 
86  ' 


THE  WARNERS. 

man,  very  dark,  very  good  looking  and  very 
bestial  as  to  countenance.  He  was  dressed 
in  wonderful  garments.  Betty  stared  hard. 
What  a  beautiful  being  this  was,  and  what 
clothes !  There  were  jewels  on  him  too. 
Rings  on  his  long  white  fingers,  and  his  scarf 
was  held  in  place  by  an  emerald  snake  that 
did  not  seem  like  a  pin  at  all,  but  glittered 
and  gleamed  and  threw  back  every  reflection 
of  light  like  some  live  thing. 

Cyrus  had  paid  no  heed  to  this  individual; 
he  was  in  a  very  trying  position.  Mr.  Fellows 
repeatedly  offered  him  things  to  drink  that  he 
did  not  want,  and  to  refuse  politely  was  a 
problem.  The  man  of  money  had  a  slippery 
way  of  speaking;  words  glided  from  his 
mouth  without  the  least  effort.  Cyrus  won- 
dered at  this,  vaguely  wishing  he  had  pos- 
session of  the  same  gift. 

Fellows  straightened  up;  he  was  ready  to 
introduce  the  subject  in  hand.  He  spoke  of 
oil  wells,  and  their  products,  and  the  future 
for  oil.  At  last  Cyrus  felt  himself  on  solid 
earth.  He  began  to  talk,  telling  all  about 
his  property;  his  pride  in  it  was  very  appar- 
ent ;  also,  he  was  remembering  Betty's  in- 
87 


THE  WARNERS. 

structions.  The  elegant  young-  man  rose  list- 
lessly, wearied  by  inaction  and  amused  at  this 
pretty  child's  open-eyed  admiration.  By  the 
time  Cyrus  was  fairly  getting  into  his  subject 
Teddy  Fellows  was  leaning  over  very  close 
to  Betty,  talking  to  her  in  a  way  she  had  never 
been  talked  to  before. 

Her  face  flushed,  her  lips  parted  in  an  un- 
certain smile,  and  she  was  a  little  breathless. 
He  told  her  wonderful  things,  all  accom- 
plished through  the  agency — Money.  He 
showed  her  beautiful  things — all  bought  with 
money.  He  intimated  at  greater  possibilities 
even  than  he  had  spoken  of,  in  money.  He 
feasted  her  upon  the  marvels  of  wealth,  of 
which  he  possessed  a  large  share.  All  the 
time  he  talked  with  languid  airs,  taking  no 
pains  to  conceal  what  he  thought  of  her  and 
using  flattery  with  lavish  freedom.  Betty  was 
spellbound. 

"If  you  are  as  beautiful  two  years  from  now 
as  you  are  today,  Betty,  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  shouldn't  have  money  to  use,"  he 
began  after  a  moment's  reflection,  his  eyes 
never  traveling  from  her  face. 

"How?"  she  exclaimed,  trembling  with  ex- 
88 


THE  WARNERS. 

citement.  It  was  almost  her  first  speech  since 
she  had  seen  this  being. 

But  he  only  laughed;  her  innocence  was 
delicious.  "You  will  think  of  me  sometimes, 
won't  you,  Betty?"  he  asked. 

Before  the  child  could  reply,  Cyrus  arose : 
he  too  was  flushed,  and  he  looked  very  posi- 
tive ;  he  and  Fellows  had  clashed. 

'Think  it  over,  Mr.  Warner.  Of  course, 
it's  merely  a  proposition.  It's  my  advice  to 
you  to  take  my  offer ;  for  your  own  good,  you 
understand.  Personally  it  is  nothing  to  me; 
remember  that,  my  friend."  They  were  Mr. 
Fellow's  parting  words,  and  he  was  twirling 
the  cord  fearfully.  He  bowed  Cyrus  and 
Betty  out  of  the  car  with  considerable  cere- 
mony, and  the  two  started  homeward,  Cyrus 
still  ignorant  of  his  daughter's  entertainment 
by  that  other  man. 

They  walked  rapidly  and  silently,  both 
father  and  daughter  busy  with  a  multitude  of 
thoughts — disastrous  thoughts,  too.  It  was 
remarkable  to  watch  the  effect  that  visit  had 
made  upon  these  two. 

The  woman  in  Betty  had  suddenly  leaped 
to  the  front.  A  powerful  something  stirring 
89 


THE  WARNERS. 

in  her  and  binding  her  to  this  stranger.  She 
was  ashamed  of  the  very  thoughts  that  were 
coursing  through  her  brain,  as  uncontrollable 
as  the  winds  of  Heaven.  It  was  as  if  her  un- 
doing had  already  begun. 

Betty  the  demure  was  waiting  for  them. 
Directly  she  saw  them  she  sent  the  little  girl 
away  to  change  her  gown.  The  wife  had 
only  to  look  at  her  husband  to  know  that 
something  had  roused  and  perplexed  him  to 
an  extraordinary  extent.  His  face  was  white 
and  drawn. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  she  asked,  going  to  him 
and  putting  both  arms  about  his  neck. 

It  burst  out  in  a  torrent:  "He  wants  me 
to  sell — our  well — our  home  here,  that's  been 
so  much."  The  man  choked;  he  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

For  once  even  Betty  was  stupefied. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Cyrus?"  she  cried, 
aghast  with  the  thoughts  that  rushed  in  upon 
her. 

"Why,  you  see,  he's  got  oil  wells,  and  he 

wants  more.      He's    heard  of  our  property 

here.  Every  one  knows  that  the  well  is  good," 

proudly.     "But  I  told  him  I  could  not  sell; 

90 


THE  WARNERS. 

that  it  was  my  home,  my  business,  my  living — 
why,  it's  my  whole  life.  He  can't  force  me  to 
sell,  and  I  won't  sell.  By  God,  I  won't." 

A  reaction  was  coming  over  the  gentle 
Cyrus.  That  instinct  of  the  father  to  protect 
his  own;  the  instinct  that  makes  beasts  of 
men  when  the  necessity  forces. 

"Of  course  he  can't  force  you ;  don't  worry, 
dear.  It's  not  possible  to  take  your  property 
away  from  you  if  you  are  not  willing  to  sell. 
He  simply  knows  it's  good,  and  naturally  is 
interested,  being  a  business  man.  But  that's 
all.  Don't  worry,  dear ;  it's  all  right." 

But  though  she  soothed  and  encouraged 
and  took  the  burden  from  her  husband,  some- 
where deep  in  her  heart  Betty  had  a  fearful 
shrinking.  If  the  man  was  determined,  what 
might  he  not  do  with  money? 

Together  they  wrote  a  letter  to  Fellows 
that  night.  Cyrus  was  stubborn  on  the  point 
that  he  would  not  see  the  capitalist  again. 
Not  for  all  the  money  in  the  universe.  They 
could  only  work  at  cross-purposes ;  besides, 
he  disliked  him.  What  was  the  use  of  an- 
other visit  ?  In  the  letter  they  jointly  declined 


THE  WARNERS. 

to  sell  their  well  and  their  property  to  Mr. 
Fellows. 

"He  offered  me  what  I  paid  Fisher  for  it, 
Betty ;  but  the  price  ain't  the  question,"  Cyrus 
had  acknowledged,  as  if  in  justice  to  Fellows. 

Betty  nodded;  she  understood  only  too 
well  that  the  money  was  not  all.  The  letter 
was  dispatched.  The  next  afternoon  Mr.  Fel- 
lows and  Teddy  and  the  private  car,  with  the 
special  engine,  sped  away.  But  for  weeks 
after  that  visit  Betty  lay  awake  all  through 
the  hours  of  the  night,  staring,  wondering, 
fearing;  and  Betty  the  second  was  restless, 
and  Cyrus,  unlike  himself,  worked  without 
whistling  and  writhed  in  his  dreams.  The 
news  soon  spread  that  all  the  well-owners  had 
been  interviewed,  and  all  except  two  had  re- 
fused to  sell.  Then  it  was  whispered  that 
Fellows  had  left,  vowing  vengeance  against 
the  blockheads.  Half  the  town  was  waiting 
and  wondering  and  despairing,  as  Cyrus  and 
Betty  were.  What  would  be  the  next  move? 


92 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ABOUT  this  time  Kirby  and  Ida  Fisher 
married.  The  wedding  was  to  have 
been  a  quiet  affair;  at  the  last  minute, 
however,  all  this  was  changed.  A  friend  of 
Kirby's,  also  the  friend  of  a  theatrical  man- 
ager, who  had  a  show  running  in  town — a 
melodrama  bristling  with  battles,  murders 
and  sudden  deaths — had  worked  up  a  great 
scheme.  He  approached  the  orator  with  it. 
Instead  of  having  the  orator's  marriage  take 
place  in  the  parlor  at  the  minister's,  it  should 
be  performed  on  the  stage,  after  the  show.  It 
would  work  up  in  great  shape.  Bridesmaids, 
best  man  and  groomsmen  could  be  drawn 
from  the  company.  The  theater  orchestra 
would  furnish  appropriate  musical  selections. 
The  audience  would  witness  the  affair  from 
the  theater;  afterward  an  impromptu  recep- 
tion, held  on  the  stage,  would  give  each  and 
every  one  a  chance  to  offer  congratulations, 
and  shake  hands  with  the  bridal  couple.  It 
would  be  an  event  calculated  to  live  in  the 
93 


THE  WARNERS. 

memory  a  lifetime — an  historical  occurrence 
to  hand  down  to  one's  grandchildren  genera- 
tion after  generation. 

The  prospect  pleased  Kirby  beyond  words. 
The  whole  arrangement  was  so  in  harmony 
with  his  dream  of  the  future.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  it,  it  would  catch  the  public. 
Immediately  he  saw  himself  up  there,  a  noble 
figure  standing  sublimely  before  a  huge  audi- 
ence, stilled  with  admiration  and  awe.  He 
was  willing  to  let  them  become  a  part  of  the 
most  serious  drama  in  his  life.  Willing  be- 
cause he  had  sacrificed  his  life  to  the  masses. 

Kirby 's  nerves  and  emotions  were  always 
on  a  strained  condition  of  exultation.  Now 
he  could  hardly  speak.  He  clapped  his  friend 
on  the  shoulder,  holding  him  at  arm's  length. 

"All  right!  It's  all  right.  If  I  can  fix 
Ida,  why — I'm  willing  to  see  the  thing 
through "  He  could  get  no  farther. 

Ida's  eyes  grew  frightened  when  Kirby 
explained  the  idea,  but  she  had  no  chance 
to  demur.  The  fact  was  Kirby  always  domi- 
nated her  with  his  rapid  phrases  of  intense 
feeling. 

Their  consent  once  given,  the  management 
94 


THE  WARNERS. 

lost  no  time.  The  city  flamed  with  the  An- 
nouncements of  a  wedding  on  the  stage,  with 
real  ministers  and  real  people,  all  for  the  one 
price  of  admission.  There  was  an  article 
about  the  affair  in  the  morning  dailies.  Even 
Kirby's  picture  was  in  the  paper. 

Meanwhile  the  orator  had  been  presented 
to  the  professionals  who  were  to  be  his  as- 
sistants. During  the  introduction  he  stood 
erect,  impassive,  gazing  with  a  stare  of  fixed 
attention.  He  regarded  these  men  and 
women  as  a  general  who  before  some  decisive 
battle  selects  aides  from  his  staff. 

After  they  had  all  shaken  hands,  Kirby  de- 
cided on  the  villain  to  do  the  part  of  best  man. 
His  carriage  and  hauteur  entitled  him  to  this. 
The  leading  lady  would  assist  Ida.  The  first 
old  man,  a  fresh  young  fellow,  with  very  pink 
cheeks,  was  to  give  the  bride  away.  Kirby 
requested  him  to  keep  on  the  melodrama 
make-up  during  the  ceremony.  There  was 
something  so  inadequate  about  a  youth  play- 
ing the  part  of  the  father  without  snowy  hair 
and  wrinkles.  The  leading  man  and  the  in- 
genue would  fill  out  the  active  members  of 


95 


THE  WARNERS. 

the  bridal  party.  Kirby  communicated  these 
arrangements  to  Ida. 

The  great  day  arrived.  At  a  quarter  before 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  management 
sent  a  carriage  for  the  bride  and  groom  elect. 
It  had  been  decided  that  the  couple  were  to 
drive  to  the  theater  and  witness  the  perform- 
ance from  one  of  the  boxes.  Ida  was  in  a 
state  of  nervous  tension,  bordering  on  a  col- 
lapse, fearful  of  facing  that  multitude  of 
people. 

Kirby,  as  became  a  man  of  the  world,  ac- 
cepted the  situation  with  great  complacency. 
He  felt  that  he  had  been  called  upon  to  play 
a  part — a  part  that  was  to  launch  him  into  a 
public  life,  and  the  importance  of  every  move 
was  apparent. 

The  manager  met  the  two  at  the  theater 
entrance.  The  men  shook  hands  with  much 
eclat.  Kirby  presented  Miss  Fisher,  and  the 
three  moved  on,  the  orator  with  Ida  clinging 
to  his  arm.  Their  entrance  into  the  box  was 
martial.  Kirby  was  prepared,  had  the  audi- 
ence demanded,  not  only  to  bow  an  acknowl- 
edgement of  the  greeting,  but  to  make  a  few 
remarks.  He  would  begin  on  matrimony  as  a 
96 


THE  WARNERS. 

noble  institution.  This  would  be  followed  by 
a  statement  of  his  pride  in  appearing  before 
such  a  distinguished  gathering  of  men  and 
women.  He  would  finish  with  a  graceful  ex- 
pression of  his  thanks  and  Miss  Fisher's  for 
the  kindly  interest  that  had  been  extended  to 
them  by  the  audience. 

But  the  audience  was  engrossed  in  the  play. 
The  stage  was  darkened ;  the  villain,  in  hide- 
ous mustache  and  a  long,  black  cape,  was 
planning  fearful  complications  for  the  heroine. 

Ida  and  Kirby  seated  themselves  unob- 
served. Miss  Fisher  gave  a  trembling  breath 
of  relief  and  huddled  down  to  make  herself 
smaller.  Kirby,  arms  folded,  brows  con- 
tracted, erect,  impassive,  nonchalant,  pulled 
his  chair  closer  to  the  stage.  Occasionally  he 
turned  and  glanced  at  the  rows  of  seats.  Not 
a  vacant  space  to  be  seen;  the  house  was 
packed  to  the  doors.  Rows  of  heads  every- 
where ;  tier  after  tier  of  men  and  women  here 
to  see  him.  To  witness  his  marriage  to  Ida. 
Even  the  orchestra  had  disappeared  under  the 
stage,  and  lines  of  chairs  filled  the  space.  It 
was  an  entrancing  vision.  He  felt  very  noble 
and  heroic. 

97 


THE  WARNERS. 

Ida  knew  very  little  of  what  was  going  on 
anywhere  about  her.  She  was  wishing  from 
the  depths  of  her  heart  that  the  evening  were 
safely  over.  Kirby  might  be  cut  out  for  this 
sort  of  thing,  but  not  she.  Finally  the  mo- 
ment arrived.  The  villain  had  been  baffled ; 
the  first  old  man  was  blessing  the  weeping 
heroine;  the  hero,  supporting  first  old  lady, 
was  giving  voice  to  noble  platitudes ;  the  in- 
genue pirouetted  all  over  the  stage,  stopping 
occasionally  to  snap  a  long  wad  of  gum  in 
full  view  of  the  audience. 

As  the  curtain  fell  in  a  storm  of  approval 
the  manager  appeared  at  the  back  of  the  box. 

"Now  is  the  time,"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 
Ida  started  guiltily.  Kirby,  grandly  grave, 
stepped  out  royally.  The  scene-shifters  were 
hurrying  around,  making  appropriate  set- 
tings for  the  wedding.  All  the  actors,  except 
the  leading  lady  and  the  first  old  man  were 
in  the  dressing  rooms,  taking  off  paint, 
powder  and  superfluous  hair ;  the  men  putting 
on  evening  dress,  sticking  huge  white  chrys- 
anthemums in  their  left  buttonholes.  The 
ingenue  was  making  an  elaborate  toilet. 

The  orchestra  came  up  on  to  the  stage.  The 
98 


THE  WARNERS. 

leader,  a  fat  little  German,  arranged  his  musi- 
cians into  groups  in  the  wings ;  and  stationed 
himself  where  he  could  watch  the  ceremony. 
An  altar  was  placed  down  middle  center, 
with  great  effect.  During  these  changes  the 
audience  outside  became  impatient;  cat  calls, 
crys  and  remarks  came  back  to  the  actors. 
There  were  shouts  of  Kirby's  name,  followed 
by  "speech."  Kirby  heard  it  distinctly. 

All  at  once  everything  was  ready.  The  min- 
ister took  his  place  back  of  the  altar;  in  his 
hands  he  held  a  prayer-book.  Before  him 
and  directly  in  middle  center  was  Kirby,  ele- 
gant in  a  rented  dress  suit  that  fitted  only 
in  spots.  His  hair  was  brushed  straight  back. 
At  his  right  stood  Ida,  fearfully  pale,  clutch- 
ing hysterically  at  a  bouquet  that  had  been 
placed  in  her  hands.  Grouped  around  these 
two  were  the  villain,  minus  his  mustache;  the 
leading  lady  and  the  first  old  man.  Just  back 
of  this  circle  were  the  ingenue  in  long  skirts 
ar.d  without  the  gum,  and  the  leading  man. 
Artificial  flowers,  unnatural  hand-made  palms 
and  green  moss-covered  banks  were  every- 
where on  the  stage. 

The  manager  gave  the  signal.    The  orches 
99 


THE  WARNERS. 

tra  leader  raised  his  baton.  The  musicians 
broke  into  the  wedding  march ;  the  curtain 
swung  up. 

The  audience  fell  into  a  sudden  quiet,  lean- 
ing forward,  straining  its  ears  to  catch  the 
sound  of  the  service.  The  orchestra  was  play- 
ing pianissimo,  but  the  music  was  louder  than 
Ida's  trembling  responses.  Kirby's  tones 
rang  out  clear,  important.  At  the  prayer  the 
minister  spread  out  his  hands  and  arms  so  as 
to  include  everyone.  Then  all  on  the  stage 
knelt.  The  professionals  went  through  the 
manoeuvre  with  the  precision  of  their  calling. 
The  leading  lady  swept  down,  her  dress  fall- 
ing in  even  folds.  She  was  weeping  beauti- 
fully. The  villain  was  a  cloud  of  gloom.  The 
leading  man  posed,  his  eyes  rolled  heaven- 
ward. First  old  man  entered  so  completely 
into  his  part  that  he  forgot  his  youth  and 
raised  a  trembling  hand  to  his  forehead.  His 
mouth  was  quivering. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  it  was  all  over. 
The  orchestra  thundered  into  a  triumphal 
march,  and  the  manager  stepped  into  view  to 
offer  congratulations.  The  leading  lady  still 
tremendously  affected,  kissed  Ida.  The  vil- 
ioo 


THE  WARNERS. 

lain  and  Kirby  wrung  each  other's  hands, 
both  in  a  state  of  heroics.  A  clamor  was  ris- 
ing out  in  front.  The  audience  remembering 
the  placards,  demanded  that  the  announce- 
ments should  be  carried  out  to  the  letter.  It 
wanted  its  money's  worth.  A  reception  had 
been  promised,  hadn't  it? 

The  manager  superintended  everything. 
First  he  made  a  little  speech  that  was  wildly 
applauded.  Then  the  rush  began.  Men  and 
women  crowded  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kirby. 
For  over  an  hour,  a  sea  of  people  surged  to 
the  front,  shaking  hands,  laughing,  chatter- 
ing, trying  to  think  what  to  say. 

Kirby  was  very  superior.  He  accepted  the 
good  wishes  majestically,  and  introduced  Mrs. 
Kirby,  sometimes  with  large  commanding 
gestures ;  again  by  an  elegant  inclination  of 
his  head.  Occasionally  she  leaned  closer  to 
speak  to  him.  At  once  his  whole  attitude  be- 
came deferential.  Ida  was  smiling  and  look- 
ing very  happy.  She  was  recovering  from 
her  nervousness.  All  this  time  the  orchestra 
was  lending  its  efforts  towards  a  successful 
completion  of  the  evening.  One  could  not 

IOI 


THE  WARNERS. 

hear  a  word  his  neighbor  said  above  the  lam- 
entations of  the  horns  and  drums. 

Presently  the  theatre  began  to  empty.  The 
rows  of  seats  grew  dark  and  lonesome.  An 
usher  began  to  close  the  chairs,  banging  them 
noisily.  Two  scrub  women  stood  back  in  the 
foyer  with  pails  and  mops,  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  begin  work.  And  Ida,  very  tired, 
very  anxious  to  have  it  all  over  with,  gave  a 
sigh  of  contentment  as  the  last  couple  passed. 

It  had  been  a  great  evening;  a  most  suc- 
cessful affair,  and  on  the  whole  it  had  passed 
more  agreeably  than  she  had  dared  to  hope. 
People  had  been  so  kind. 

Kirby  and  Ida  drove  home  through  the 
quiet  streets,  the  city  looking  big  and  un- 
natural in  its  desertion.  Ida  slipped  her 
hand  into  her  husband's. 

"We  ought  to  be  happy,  if  good  wishes 
count,"  she  said  shyly. 

After  this  partnership,  as  Kirby  called  his 
marriage  to  Ida,  the  orator  conceived  the 
idea  of  editing  a  paper.  A  paper  dealing  with 
the  woes  of  the  down-trodden  laboring  class 
— the  bulwarks  of  the  nation.  In  each  issue 
there  would  be  a  fierce  article  on  the  vices, 
102 


THE  WARNERS. 

deceptions,  and  cruelties  of  capitalists — an  ar- 
ticle that  showed  them  up.  He  would  give  to 
the  world  a  paper  that  feared  nothing,  asked 
nothing  and  spoke  the  truth.  Also  in  each 
issue  Ida  would  conduct  a  German  column 
devoted  to  practically  the  same  kind  of  work  ; 
calling  on  the  poor  to  arise  and  assert  them- 
selves, make  America  free  in  truth,  as  it  was 
in  name. 

Kirby  was  willing  and  ready  to  back  his 
tirades  with  his  life.  Like  all  fanatics  he 
dedicated  his  life  to  any  cause  that  arose.  But 
no  two  ways  about  it,  he  was  gaining  a  kind 
of  influence  among  a  certain  class  of  people. 
His  bellowings  and  flow  of  lurid  phrases  ap- 
pealed to  the  uneducated  who  could  not  follow 
an  argument.  Those  who  could  not  work 
because  they  would  not,  adhered  to  him  as- 
siduously. Their  praise  unfitted  Kirby  for  all 
usefulness.  He  became  involved  in  fearful 
statements  and  yelled  himself  free  of  them. 
He  discussed  the  social  problem  wildly  and 
glared  defiance.  Let  anyone  come  on  who 
would  and  disprove. 

He  banged,  and  howled,  and  worked  him- 
self into  a  high  pitch  of  frenzy  through  his 
103 


THE  WARNERS. 

own  clamor.  His  audience  unfailingly  caught 
his  excitement,  and  howled  applause  and  ap- 
proval at  him.  After  his  speech  they  would 
all  rise  and  shake  their  fists  into  the  faces  of 
their  neighbors,  asserting  the  orator's  bril- 
liancy; with  monster  oaths  they  cursed  the 
tyranny  which  held  them  down;  they  blas- 
phemed the  monied  interests  of  the  country 
and  pledged  themselves  to  a  gory  badge  of 
freedom. 

"When  the  time  was  ripe  the  capitalists 
would  see  how  they  could  struggle.  Oh,  it 
was  a  crew  for  a  government  to  tremble  at. 
Just  wait,  they  weren't  started  yet,  but  when 
they  were  Uncle  Sam  had  better  look  out. 
In  time  they  would  run  the  policy  of  the 
United  States ;  put  up  their  own  President." 

Here  there  was  a  pause,  while  wild  eyes 
traveled  towards  Kirby.  He  was  their  leader 
now,  a  fearless  man  of  great  strength.  Well, 
perhaps — who  could  say  what  he  might  be 
when  they  ruled  the  government. 

During  this  pause  Kirby  assumed  a  terribly 

unconscious  pose ; — placing  one  hand  behind 

him,  the   other  between  the  buttons   of  his 

coat;    all    the  time  his    blood  was  coursing 

104 


THE  WARNERS. 

riotously  through  his  veins.  Ah,  he  was  a 
leader  of  men;  some  day  his  name  would  be 
known  from  one  end  of  the  universe  to  the 
other. 

But  being  a  leader  of  men  and  an  editor  of 
a  paper  did  not  bring  in  vast  sums  upon 
which  to  manage  his  family.  Kirby  borrowed 
freely,  and  with  large  faith  in  himself.  He 
did  not  trouble  himself  with  quick  payments 
of  his  debts.  But  even  this  method  of  ob- 
taining money  left  him  wretchedly  poor  most 
of  the  time.  The  poorer  he  got  the  more  ram- 
pant he  became.  He  often  thought  of  Cyrus, 
sometimes  with  a  notion  of  writing  to  him, 
for  help.  He  put  it  aside,  however,  too  loyal 
to  his  friend  to  burden  him.  Still,  his  con- 
tinued ill-luck  and  his  persistent  poverty  ex- 
asperated him.  He  began  to  drink  exces- 
sively. After  one  of  these  debauches  his  talk 
was  something  fearful.  His  brain  flamed 
with  the  heat  of  whiskey,  and  even  men  of  his 
own  stamp  feared  him.  He  was  a  beast,  a 
raging,  roaring,  irresponsible,  dangerous  ani- 
mal. 

Meanwhile  Ida  had  given  birth  to  a  sickly, 
pinch-faced  boy  with  eyes  as  haunted  as  her 
105 


THE  WARNERS. 

own.  The  father  regarded  him  as  another 
bulwark  of  society,  and  planned  a  flaming 
future  for  the  tiny  mite. 

In  her  half-starved  condition  the  mother 
lay  week  after  week,  too  ill  to  move,  too 
wretched  to  be  conscious  of  the  neglect  and 
want  that  besieged  them.  The  rooms  where 
the  Kirbys  lived  were  abominably  dirty ;  they 
reeked  with  filth  and  foul  odors.  Small 
wonder  that  the  baby  moaned  and  wailed. 
What  had  it  come  into,  anyway?  What  was 
this  world? 

Kirby  was  seldom  home.  He  arrived  late 
at  night,  bringing  with  him  a  heavy  smell  of 
alcohol  and  stale  tobacco  smoke.  He  was 
unkempt,  a  week's  growth  of  black  beard  dark- 
ened his  face.  His  clothes  were  frayed  and 
ragged.  He  was  never  brutal  to  Ida,  even 
in  his  drunken  rages,  but  he  was  sullen,  use- 
less and  lazy.  What  was  the  use  anyway; 
no  sense  in  trying  as  long  as  monopolists  had 
their  way.  Wait  until  things  began  to  come 
HIS  way,  just  once;  then  he'd  alter  his  life. 
There  would  be  a  revolution  of  his  planning 
and  leading,  when  the  time  was  ripe.  Finish 
with  that,  then  he  and  Ida  would  live  in  a 
1 06 


THE  WARNERS. 

house,  by  God,  and  a  swell  house.  He  was 
working  to  that  end,  but  it  required  time. 
Just  let  him  control.  Let  the  bulwarks  of  the 
nation  be  in  his  guarding  and  see. 

He  would  roar  this  out  at  his  wife  repeat- 
edly, making  the  scant  furniture  rattle  with 
his  gesticulations.  The  boy  woke  in  a  fright 
at  the  noise  and  moaned  pitifully.  Ida  quiv- 
ered, weary  with  the  heaviness  of  her  hus- 
band's tones.  Sometimes  she  cried  from 
sheer  weakness  and  despair;  then  Kirby's 
face  would  become  mottled  with  rage  and  he 
would  swear  horribly  at  the  state  of  things. 

Far  away  in  the  southern  part  of  the  State 
Cyrus  was  wretched  too,  for  things  in  the  lit- 
tle cottage  were  going  badly,  very  badly. 
Fellows, — Anthony  J.  Fellows — was  having 
his  revenge.  This  man  counted  his  money  by 
millions,  but  that  was  not  the  issue.  He 
wanted  these  oil-wells  that  he  could  not  buy. 
The  fact  of  resistance  made  his  more  deter- 
mined. He  would  have  them.  He  would 
show  those  duffers,  those  country  Bills  what 
he  and  his  money  could  accomplish ;  and  that 
they  could  not  bulldoze  him  out  of  what  he 

wanted. 

107 


THE  WARNERS. 

He  sat  apart  in  his  suite  of  offices  and 
planned  the  calamity.  When  he  was  ready, 
by  a  word  he  sent  down  the  price  of  oil.  It 
went  with  a  crash.  It  was  a  matter  of  no 
concern  to  him  how  far  the  price  tumbled. 
Ruin  could  not  beset  him.  In  the  end  he 
had  to  gain.  Millions  backed  him,  hundreds 
backed  his  opponents — not  opponents  but 
victims ;  there  was  no  question  of  opposition 
in  the  matter.  The  news  came  like  a  clap  of 
thunder  in  that  little  village.  Those  small 
producers  were  paralyzed.  Oil  went  off  two 
and  three  cents  at  a  time.  The  market  was 
in  pieces. 

Cyrus  became  old  in  a  week.  He  said  noth- 
ing, because  it  was  not  his  way  to  complain ; 
but  he  understood  his  helplessness.  Long 
ago  Kirby  had  warned  him  against  rich  men ; 
Kirby  had  been  right,  far-seeing.  He  had 
spoken  truly.  There  was  nothing  exag- 
gerated in  those  harangues.  Theories  of  life 
were  absurd. 

Cyrus  worked.     He  did  it  out  of  force  of 
habit ;    also  because  he  loved  every  inch  of 
his  ground ;  but  he  was  stunned,  bewildered, 
1 08 


THE  WARNERS. 

and  he  dared  not  stop  to  think  ahead  a  min- 
ute. The  injustice  of  it  was  appalling. 

"I  won't  quit;  and  we  ain't  paupers  yet," 
he  would  cry  with  deep  desperation  in  every 
tone ;  and  Betty  always  acquiesced. 

They  never  heard  again  directly  from  Fel- 
lows; but  that  was  quite  unnecessary;  he 
had  put  oil  so  low  that  none  of  the  small  men 
could  sell.  He  did  not  need  to  be  heard  from 
further. 

After  a  few  months  the  Warners  began  to 
draw  some  money  from  their  little  store  in 
the  savings  bank.  They  were  deprived  of 
their  only  source  of  income — they  had  to  live. 
Betty  cried  over  this.  She  showed  no  sor- 
row before  Cyrus — in  fact  she  was  merry  and 
bright  when  he  was  anywhere  near,  but  by 
herself  she  wept  and  prayed. 

In  the  deepness  of  her  grieving  over  Cyrus 
and  her  home,  and  what  was  coming,  she  lost 
sight  of  her  daughter;  otherwise  she  would 
not  only  have  noticed,  she  would  have  be?n 
startled  at  what  she  saw  in  little  Betty's  face. 

The  child  drooped.  She  was  silent,  and 
subdued,  and  started  guiltily  when  anyone 
addressed  her  suddenly.  She  did  not  sleep. 
109 


THE  WARNERS. 

She  ate  so  little  that  sometimes  she  grew 
faint  from  very  want  of  sustenance.  She  had 
fallen  into  the  habit  of  taking  long  walks  by 
herself.  Anywhere  to  get  away.  Sometimes 
it  was  through  the  fields,  occasionally  down 
the  broad  country  road  that  led  on  and  on 
indefinitely;  but  more  often  it  was  to  the 
woods.  Here  Betty  would  sit  down  in  the 
very  thick  of  the  trees  and  think  and  think. 
She  came  so  close  to  Teddy  in  her  thoughts 
that  it  would  not  have  surprised  her  any  mo- 
ment if  he  had  appeared.  It  was  wonderful 
the  unreasonable  influence  that  one  meeting 
had  exerted  over  her. 

Betty  staid  away  from  home  as  long  as  she 
dared;  sitting  motionless  hour  after  hour; 
watching  nothing,  doing  nothing — only  think- 
ing. This  solitude  had  become  a  passion  with 
the  child.  It  was  taking  her  a  long  time  to 
become  accustomed  to  that  other  self  in  her. 
It  had  awakened  with  such  suddenness  the 
girl  was  terrified.  Until  that  meeting  with 
Teddy  there  had  been  nothing  like  this  in  her 
whole  being;  no  thought  of  anyone  or  any- 
thing beyond  her  father  and  mother.  Her 
life  had  been  tranquil  and  sufficient, 
no 


THE  WARNERS. 

But  this  disturbance  that  had  come  swift 
and  strong  had  changed  it  all.  It  had  caught 
her  and  held  her  fast  and  was  claiming  not 
only  recognition  but  her  entire  attention. 
She  couldn't  escape  it.  Moreover,  the  girl 
was  assailed  from  a  thousand  different 
points.  Sometimes  she  was  tortured  and 
racked  and  ashamed,  yet  all  the  while,  beneath 
the  pain  there  was  a  strange  element  of  joy 
that  was  like  nothing  she  had  ever  experi- 
enced before.  She  would  cry  with  anger  at 
her  perplexity  at  the  same  time  would  thrill 
under  gusts  of  such  intense  emotion  that  she 
shivered  and  drew  her  body  together. 

Why  had  all  this  come  to  her  anyway?  She 
did  not  know  herself  at  all.  Everything  was 
so  unexpected.  She  wanted  nothing  of  this 
kind.  Certainly  she  had  not  sought  it.  Who 
could  have  guessed  that  the  meeting  with 
Teddy  would  have  involved  any  such  crisis  as 
this.  It  took  away  half  of  the  enjoyment  of 
the  thing. 

If  she  could  have  chosen,  Betty  would  have 
shunned  every  part  of  existence  but  the 
pleasant  part.  But  somehow  she  found  all 
III 


THE  WARNERS. 

at  once  that  in  this  matter  her  desire  had 
small  voice. 

There  was  one  gleam  of  comfort.  This  lay 
in  the  knowledge  that  Teddy  was  remember- 
ing too.  His  remembrance  took  the  form  of 
letters  that  came  with  great  regularity  on  cer- 
tain days  of  every  week.  He  pledged  this  lit- 
tle girl  to  secrecy  and  warned  her  of  the  days 
when  his  letters  were  to  arrive. 

They  came  promptly — smooth,  insinuating, 
contemptible  things,  but  as  she  read  the  child 
trembled  from  a  something  that  left  her  cold 
and  near  to  tears.  It  was  a  wonderful  hap- 
piness, a  happiness  very  akin  to  fear.  It  was 
the  further  awakening  of  that  mysterious 
womanhood. 

He  loved  her;  he  said  so — she  never  read 
that  without  quivering.  Down  in  the  bottom 
of  a  little  box  made  of  her  favorite  sweet 
grass,  these  precious  bits  of  paper  were 
smoothed  away  one  by  one.  By  degrees  the 
paper  took  on  the  scent  of  the  perfume  and 
that  delighted  her.  There  came  a  time  later 
when  the  smell  of  this  same  grass  made 
Betty  clench  her  hands  and  dig  her  nails  into 

her  flesh. 

112 


THE  WARNERS. 

Long  after  her  mother  and  father  were  in 
bed  she  took  those  letters  out  of  their  hiding 
place  when  she  was  sure  the  others  slept. 
She  would  gloat  over  them  with  miserly  rap- 
ture. She  would  press  the  inanimate  things 
to  her  soft,  white  cheek.  "Oh,  how  sweet 
they  are!"  she  murmured.  Sometimes  she 
kissed  them. 


I 
CHAPTER  IX. 

CYRUS  WARNER  had  passed  his  for- 
tieth birthday.  It  meant  that  for  forty 
years  this  man  had  spent  his  strength 
and  his  time  and  his  constitution  in  fighting 
starvation  and  nakedness.  It  was  as  if  for 
thirty  of  these  years  he  had  been  chained  to 
a  wall,  to  gain  ten  of  freedom,  afterward  to 
be  recaptured  and  put  back  at  the  beginning 
again.  For  the  grind  had  begun  all  over. 
Cyrus'  ambition,  the  oil-well  and  the  cottage, 
were  things  of  the  past.  He  had  kept  up  the 
fight  stubbornly  until  every  cent  from  the 
savings  bank  had  been  drawn,  and  still  Fel- 
lows sent  the  price  of  oil  pushing  down. 

Then  he  and  Betty  talked  it  over.  Her 
voice  trembled  in  spite  of  all  her  resolves  to 
be  brave.  Cyrus  sat  staring  stupidly  out 
across  his  beautiful  lawn. 

"I  never  asked  for  much;    not  more  than 

seemed  my  share — I  wasn't  a  hog.    Where's 

the  justice  of  what's  happened?"  he  asked. 

But  Betty  could  not  tell  him,  and  there  was 

114 


THE  WARNERS. 

only  one  thing  to  do ;  talking  really  did  not 
help. 

"We  will  go  back  to  the  city;  it  won't  be 
so  bad.  We  will  get  something,  some  price, 
for — our  home."  Her  voice  choked.  "That 
will  start  us,  and  schools  are  better  there  for 
Betty,  you  know."  Surely  there  was  a  gleam 
of  brightness. 

For  a  second  it  found  a  reflection  in  the 
man's  heavy  heart.  His  old  worship  of  an 
education  still  burned  in  him, — dimly,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  burned. 

"The  schools ; — yes  ;  that's  right ;  Betty 
must  be  a  scholar." 

"We'd  better  not  try  to  take  all  our  things 
back;  it  costs  such  a  lot." 

"Can  we  sell  them?" 

But  a  happier  thought  struck  Betty.  "We'll 
try  and  rent  the  cottage  furnished.  That  will 
bring  us  a  little  every  month.  It'll  take  care 
of  our  things  too.  Perhaps,  you  know,  some 
day  we'll  come  back.  Furnished  cottages  like 
ours  are  hard  to  get.  We  will  sell  only  the 
well  to  that  man." 

Cyrus  arose.  He  drew  himself  up  stiffly 
to  his  full  height.  "Damn  that  man !"  he 


THE  WARNERS. 

said,  and  his  teeth  clicked.  A  moment  later 
his  eyes  wandered  through  the  parlor  into 
their  little  bedroom  beyond — the  room  where 
Betty  had  been  born.  His  face  softened  ;  his 
eyes  blurred.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  his 
wife : — "I  didn't  mean  to,  Betty.  I  have  no 
right  to  be  impatient  when  you,  when  you — ." 
He  had  no  words  to  finish. 

She  put  her  arms  tight  about  him: — "Oh, 
dear,  I  know,  I  know." 

But  renting  the  cottage  and  selling  the  well 
were  not  to  be  done  in  a  minute.  Mr.  Fel- 
lows' secretary,  writing  for  Mr.  Fellows,  re- 
plied to  Mr.  Warner's  letter.  He  announced 
that  a  price  had  been  offered  for  the  well 
some  months  previously,  but  since  then  the 
property  had  depreciated  in  value.  Oil  had 
declined  materially.  In  fact,  Mr.  Fellows 
doubted  the  advisability  of  adding  to  his  al- 
ready enormous  stretches  of  oil  land.  How- 
ever, he  would  consider  the  matter,  and  if 
later  he  decided  to  alter  this  present  opinion 
he  would  communicate  with  Mr.  Warner, 
naming  the  amount  he  was  willing  to  give. 

Cyrus  read,  his  eyes  extending  with  the 
fury  that  swept  over  him.  He  knew  it  was 
116 


THE  WARNERS. 

a  system  of  robbery ;  a  cold-blooded  attack  to 
get  his  property  away.  Fellows  understood 
better  than  anyone  what  that  well  was  worth. 
There  were  no  laws  to  defend  Cyrus.  Noth- 
ing that  he  could  do.  No  way  he  could  force 
or  protect.  He  was  absolutely  helpless ;  yet 
he  was  being  hounded  and  bled. 

"It's  dreadful,  dreadful,  dreadful,"  whis- 
pered Betty, — she  was  reading  this  damnable 
note  for  the  sixth  time.  Somehow  she  could 
not  understand ;  yet  her  eyes  would  not  leave 
the  page. 

She  was  pale  to  her  lips,  with  all  the  fresh- 
ness gone  from  her  face.  "It's  no  use,"  she 
moaned;  "no  use,  Cyrus.  That  man's  going 
to  have  his  way.  We  might  just  as  well  start 
back  now.  Leave  it  all.  Thinking  of  leaving 
is  making  me  sick.  I  want  to  get  it  over 
with.  Oh,  my  little  home.  My  dear,  dear,  lit- 
tle home !  I  can't  stand  it !  It's  just  break- 
ing my  heart."  She  gave  out  now,  com- 
pletely. Leaning  her  arms  against  the  wall, 
her  curly  head  buried  in  them,  she  sobbed 
and  sobbed. 

It  was  the  first  time  Cyrus  had  seen  her 
give  way  like  this.  He  looked  at  her  for  a 
117 


THE  WARNERS. 

moment  in  pitiful  bewilderment;  then  sud- 
denly something  roused  itself  in  him,  some- 
thing that  never  had  been  touched  before.  It 
took  possession  of  him  from  head  to  foot, 
and  had  in  it  a  savageness  that  would  have 
led  him  to  commit  murder.  He  paced  the 
room,  his  face  working,  his  fists  doubled  hard 
and  red.  The  expression  in  his  eyes  was  ter- 
rible. 

"If  that  man  crosses  my  path  again  let  him 
look  out — that's  all — look  out,"  he  growled, 
his  teeth  set. 

The  next  day  they  began  to  pack;  they 
took  what  they  could  afford  to  ship  and  what 
was  necessary  for  fitting  up  a  new  home. 
The  case  of  books,  the  swinging  shelf  and 
the  chromos  were  included.  The  rest  of  their 
things  they  sold.  Betty  had  at  the  last  minute 
arranged  with  a  couple  who  took  the  cottage 
for  ten  dollars  a  month;  but  it  was  to  be 
emptied.  This  new  couple  had  furniture,  and 
they  did  not  care  to  be  burdened  with  more. 

Cyrus  and  Betty  kept  close  to  each  other 

all  the  time  they  packed,  seeming  to  derive 

some  comfort  from  nearness.     They  talked 

very  little;   both  of  them  had  changed  won- 

118 


THE  WARNERS. 

derfully  in  the  past  few  weeks.  Little  Betty 
was  all  excitement.  She  was  everywhere,  do- 
ing nothing  useful,  wanting  to  keep  every- 
thing of  her  own.  She  expressed  no  sorrow 
at  leaving  her  home. 

Her  mother  explained  this  to  Cyrus.  "Chil- 
dren are  all  alike.  They  want  change.  Betty 
doesn't  know ;  she  doesn't  understand." 

But  it  was  the  mother  who  was  misunder- 
standing, and  because  of  the  sorrow  so  deep 
in  her  heart  she  secretly  resented  the  child's 
gayety.  It  was  sacrilege. 

When  the  first  intimation  had  come  that 
they  must  return  to  the  city,  Betty  the  sec- 
ond had  written  a  childish  letter  to  Teddy. 
It  was  full  of  her  parents'  goodness  and  grief, 
and  complaints  of  his  father's  cruelty.  Ted- 
dy's answer  had  been  sentences  of  rejoicing 
at  the  prospect  of  the  future  before  them : — 
"The  old  man  is  not  as  black  as  your  father 
paints  him.  Dad  will  do  the  square  thing  by 
your  people  some  day.  But  don't  think  of 
that ;  think  of  us,  what  we've  got.  No  more 
letters  but  each  other,  eh,  Betty.  How  do 
you  like  that? — Finding  fault?  Then  you 
don't  love  me.  I  am  impatient  with  counting 
119 


THE  WARNERS. 

the  hours  'till  you  come;  you  mourn  and 
rage  because  you  are  coming.  Which  loves 
the  best,  miss,  tell  me  that." 

It  was  such  a  dear,  beautiful,  manly  letter 
— naturally  she  could  not  grieve ;  it  would  be 
selfish  when  Teddy  wanted  her  so;  but 
neither  could  she  explain.  However,  some 
day  they  would  know, — father  and  mother — 
when  they  got  there,  how  good  and  splendid 
the  Fellows  were. 

The  cottage  was  finally  stripped  and  bare 
and  the  good-byes  were  all  said.  The  three 
sat  miserably  on  their  boxes  at  the  station 
waiting  for  the  train  that  was  to  carry  them 
back  into  the  city.  Betty  had  managed  not 
to  break  down  again,  but  she  was  sick  and 
faint  with  the  efforts  she  had  made  to  keep 
up.  Cyrus  in  a  dumb,  broken-hearted  way  at- 
tempted to  comfort  her.  Betty  felt  this  with 
a  great  uplifting  of  spirit — his  love  was  un- 
failing. 

"After  all,  it  does  not  so  much  matter  as 
long  as  we  have  each  other,"  she  whispered 
to  him. 

"That's  so ;   that's  so,"  he  replied,  nodding 
and  brightening  at  once. 
120 


THE  WARNERS. 

Betty  was  very  excited  on  the  train.  It  was 
her  first  trip  away  from  the  very  borders  of 
the  little  country  town.  She  talked  very  fast 
and  flushed  often.  Many  men  in  the  same  car 
watched  her  with  staring  glances  of  imperti- 
nent approval.  There  was  something  about  the 
child  that  was  continually  drawing  men's  no- 
tice to  her. 

The  marvels  of  the  journey  kept  her  so 
occupied  that  at  first  she  was  unconscious  of 
this  attention.  After  a  little,  one  man  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  car  on  purposeless 
errands.  Each  time  he  passed  her  he  slowed 
up  and  stared.  The  fourth  time  this  occurred 
she  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes.  She  blushed 
to  her  ears.  Finally,  the  fellow  changed  his 
seat  to  be  nearer.  From  that  minute  he  re- 
garded her  ceaselessly.  It  was  a  very  extra- 
ordinary performance. 

The  noise  and  confusion  and  dirt  of  the 
city  terrified  Betty.  She  clutched  her  father's 
hand  when  they  crossed  the  streets,  and  gave 
little  nervous  cries  at  the  clanging  of  the 
car  bells. 

"What's  the  matter,  father — is  there  a  fire  ? 
Where  are  we  going? — hurry,  hurry,  mother." 
121 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Hush,  Betty." 

"We're  all  right,  my  girl." 

It  seemed  as  though  they  were  to  walk 
forever  and  no  where  could  they  turn  to  get 
rid  of  the  crowd. 

It  took  months  of  city  life  to  accustom  the 
child  Betty  to  that  one  thing.  She  abhorred 
contact  with  people.  She  longed  for  cool, 
fresh  air  and  the  pretty  dresses  that  never 
soiled.  She  missed  the  cottage  that  was  theirs 
alone,  and  wilted  under  the  work  that  her 
mother  from  necessity  put  upon  her.  The 
truth  was  Betty  the  demure  was  seeing  ahead 
and  beginning  the  practice  of  economy.  She 
knew  that  the  time  was  not  far  distant  when 
she,  like  Cyrus,  would  have  to  take  up  the 
grind  again.  Then  the  housework  would  fall 
upon  the  daughter.  The  child  was  old  enough 
to  help ;  she  must  help. 

Cyrus  evaded  this  time;  he  shrank  from  it 
horribly;  the  thought  of  Betty,  his  wife,  the 
woman  he  had  promised  to  protect,  taking 
upon  herself  the  burden  of  a  bread-winner  was 
a  perpetual  torment. 

But  misfortunes  once  encountered  hound 
you.  You  cannot  escape  them.  The  War- 

122 


THE  WARNERS. 

ners  were  no  exception.  Cyrus  had  gone  at 
once  to  his  old  camping  ground — the  factory. 
He  had  never  questioned  the  possibility  of 
obtaining  employment  here.  It  would  not 
have  surprised  him  to  have  received  the  offer 
of  his  old  position. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  the  building  he 
saw  it  had  been  improved;  it  was  taller, 
newer  looking.  He  presented  himself  at  the 
office.  This  part  still  bore  sufficient  resem- 
blance to  the  old  one  to  breathe  a  certain  air 
of  familiarity. 

Once  inside  the  door  this  familiarity  was 
swept  away;  the  difference  was  appalling. 
Not  one  face  that  he  knew.  He  stood  looking 
about  him  from  one  to  another,  awkward, — 
embarrassed ;  turning  his  hat  in  his  hand  like 
a  bashful  child.  He  knew  by  instinct  before 
he  had  opened  his  lips  that  all  his  hopes  for 
a  position  here  were  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment. The  man  asked  for  work,  mechani- 
cally, and  when  it  was  refused  he  departed  at 
once,  still  acting  automatically.  As  he  left  the 
building  it  commenced  to  rain — a  cold,  dreary 
drizzle,  that  soaked  him  to  the  skin  and  made 
him  shiver  violently.  It  was  a  long  way  to 
123 


THE  WARNERS. 

his  home,  and  he  had  to  walk  it — every  step 
of  the  distance.  By  the  time  he  reached  there 
he  was  in  a  chill ;  his  teeth  chattering  so  that 
talk  was  impossible. 

Betty  took  off  his  dripping  clothes,  and 
helped  him  to  bed,  after  he  had  soaked  his 
feet.  During  this  process  he  had  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  wrapped  like  an  Indian  in  a 
big  blanket,  while  the  beads  of  perspiration 
poured  out  all  on  his  forehead.  He  re- 
counted his  experience  to  his  wife,  after  he 
lay  down,  and  while  he  was  noisily  sipping  a 
''hot  sling." 

Betty's  prompt  action  probably  saved  Cyrus 
from  a  heavy  illness,  but  for  three  days  he 
was  wretched.  He  could  not  drag  himself 
through  the  streets  to  look  for  employment. 
This  enforced  idleness  was  telling  severely  on 
the  Warner  finances.  Some  means  of  liveli- 
hood was  imperative.  They  were  depriving 
themselves  of  everything  except  the  absolute 
necessities ;  and  it  was  a  question  how  these 
were  to  be  purchased  if  something  did  not 
turn  up. 

As  soon  as  he  was  well,  every  morn- 
ing Cyrus  went  out  early.  He  spent  entire 
124 


THE  WARNERS. 

days  looking  and  asking  for  work ;  he  would 
have  taken  anything ;  but  ill  success  followed 
the  man.  Night  after  night  he  returned  crest- 
fallen and  wretchedly  unhappy.  What  would 
be  the  end?  At  last,  Betty  joined  in  the 
search ;  she  went  into  the  hunt  desperately, 
fully  alive  to  the  fact  that  years  of  housework 
had  practically  unfitted  her  for  a  position  as 
stenographer.  Her  only  hope  lay  in  her  wil- 
lingness to  work  for  small  wages  until  she  got 
into  practice  again. 

This  left  little  Betty  alone— Little  Betty  ?— 
she  was  nearly  fifteen,  but  looked  much  older, 
was  taller  than  her  mother,  and  strong  with 
the  strength  of  her  free,  active  outdoor  life. 

She  had  seen  Teddy  many  times  since  they 
had  come  to  the  city — stolen  visits  all  of  them, 
but  delicious.  He  was  so  dear,  so  courteous 
and  thoughtful.  His  inquiries  for  her  father 
and  mother  showed  his  concern  for  their  wel- 
fare. He  did  not  approve  his  own  father's 
course,  he  said  so  frankly.  That  was  some- 
thing. 

But  even  this  nearness  to  Teddy  did  not  al- 
together make  up  for  the  wretchedness  of  the 
life  the  girl  had  come  into.  Betty  was  an  aris- 
125 


THE  WARNERS. 

tocrat  from  the  top  of  her  head  to  the  soles 
of  her  dainty  feet.  She  loathed  work;  she 
abominated  poverty.  Even  Teddy  found  it 
hard  to  smooth  the  pathway.  She  watched 
her  hands  and  wept  at  the  change  in  their  ap- 
pearance; her  nice  dresses  were  past  all 
cleaning — she  despised  living  in  three  rooms. 

Teddy  had  not  yet  arrived  at  a  point  where 
he  considered  it  wise  to  offer  money;  never- 
theless, he  could  draw  a  clear  picture  of  the 
future  from  the  outline  already  presented  to 
view;  so  he  waited  and  made  himself  irre- 
sistible. 

Finally,  by  the  greatest  of  good  luck,  Cyrus 
got  a  job.  It  was  in  a  harvesting  plant,  and 
his  wages  were  not  large.  But  they  were 
something.  He  hailed  this  change  with  a 
profound  joy.  Betty  cried. 

"We  will  have  luck  after  a  little,  dear; 
don't  be  unhappy." 

"Mother,"  put  in  Betty  the  second,  "must 
I  clean  and  wash?  Can't  we  get  someone  to 
help?  Look  at  my  hands;  they  are  all  red 
and  horrid.  I  won't  be  a  servant." 

A  report  from  a  pistol  could  not  have 
shocked  Betty  and  Cyrus  more  intensely  than 
126 


THE  WARNERS. 

distress  from  this  source.  Neither  one  spoke. 
Mrs.  Warner  looked  across  to  where  the  child 
sat;  looked  keenly  at  the  discontented  face, 
beautiful  for  all  the  lines  that  this  discontent- 
ment had  drawn  into  it.  Suddenly,  she  awak- 
ened to  the  danger.  What  had  come  had 
been  so  gradual  that  the  abruptness  of  its 
first  announcement  startled  the  mother.  Now 
she  knew. 

"Cyrus,  we  have  made  a  mistake,"  she  said, 
turning  her  troubled  eyes  from  her  daughter 
to  her  husband. 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,  I  guess  not;  it  is  hard 
on  her,  Betty." 

The  father  would  not  see;  no  man  can 
until  too  late.  That  was  all,  then.  They 
spoke  no  more.  Betty,  a  little  shame-faced, 
went  to  bed.  But,  Betty  the  demure  remem- 
bered, and  worried,  and  had  few  easy  mo- 
ments. 


127 


CHAPTER  X. 

CYRUS  had  been  at  the  "works"  a  month 
when    he    suddenly    ran    into    Kirby. 
The    orator   was    carried   away   with 
enthusiasm  immediately.    What  in  the  world 
did    this  mean? — Cy.  here    in    town.     They 
shook  hands,  gripping  fiercely. 

"By  God,  what's  this,  eh?  Back  to  buy 
goods? — or,  are  you  painting  the  town? 
Where  did  you  fall  from  ? — holiday  ?" 

Cyrus  was  disturbed  at  once !  he  disliked 
above  everything  to  confess  his  bad  fortune. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  to  gain 
time. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Home,"  said  Cyrus,  not  thinking. 

"Eh!  what!  home!  You  don't  mean 
you've  come  back  here  to  live,  do  you?" 

Of  course  it  was  all  out.  Really,  Cyrus 
had  no  hope  of  concealing  the  state  of  things 
for  very  long,  anyway.  He  laughed  mirth- 
lessly. "Yes,  I've  sold  out,  or  rather  I've 
stopped  my  well.  I  want  to  sell  out." 
128 


THE  WARNERS. 

"No  good?"  Kirby  had  fallen  in  step  with 
Cyrus  ;  the  two  were  walking  briskly. 

"Yes,  too  good ;  that's  the  whole  trouble ; 
it  was  too  good."  The  tone  Cyrus  used  was 
unpleasant. 

"A  brush  with  the  capitalists?" 

"Yes,  damn  them !"  yelled  Cyrus. 

Kirby  rolled  his  great  eyes  towards  his 
friend.  "On  the  level,  Cy,  is  that  true?  Did 
they  shove  you?" 

Kirby  was  entirely  in  his  element,  but  also 
for  the  moment  nonplussed;  it  was  incredi- 
ble; he  talked  against  the  monied  men  be- 
cause it  was  his  trade ;  he  never  believed  half 
he  accused  them  of.  But  here  was  a  clear 
case.  He  talked  on  glibly.  He  could  always 
talk,  nevertheless  his  mind  was  confused.  By 
the  time  his  thoughts  had  readjusted  them- 
selves, Cyrus  was  telling  him  the  whole 
wretched  business,  flinging  the  words  out  be- 
tween breaks  and  pauses.  Instinctively,  Kirby 
flamed  with  the  fury  of  his  hobby. 

"Tricked  you,  by  God !"  he  cried  during  one 

of  these  pauses ;  his  voice  sounded  as  though 

a  fight  were  imminent.     Inadvertently  some 

of  the  passers-by  stopped    and    stared    and 

129 


THE  WARNERS. 

waited  to  see  the  fun.  But  the  couple  passed 
on  amicably,  jostled  and  pushed  by  the  crowds 
and  unconscious  of  the  commotion  they 
caused. 

"I  can't  sell  my  well;  I  can't  sell  my  oil; 
I  can't  live  in  my  home.  It's  a  gol  darn  im- 
position, Kirby." 

"It's  a  crime — a  crime — not  only  against 
you,  but  against  the  bulwarks  of  a  free  and 
independent  nation.  What  ruined  Rome? 
Eh,  do  you  know?  Well,  it  was  because  three 
men  had  all  the  cash.  Three  men.  What's 
threatening  the  prosperity  of  our  country? 
The  same  thing.  The  money  getting  away 
from  the  masses  into  the  control  of  a  few,  a 
few  hogs  always  grunting  for  more.  It's  got 
to  be  stopped.  It  will  be  stopped!  There'll 
be  hell  to  pay;  but  it'll  be  stopped."  Kirby 
gesticulated  wildly. 

Cyrus  had  listened  to  this  tirade  many 
times ;  but  never  with  the  same  intense  in- 
terest. It  had  a  meaning  now,  a  personal 
meaning  that  had  never  before  been  evident. 
He  was  no  longer  puzzled.  From  hard,  prac- 
tical experience  he  understood  what  sermons 


130 


THE  WARNERS. 

could  never  have  taught  him;  moreover,  he 
liked  to  listen. 

He  took  Kirby  to  his  three  rooms,  forget- 
ting to  be  ashamed  of  their  very  apparent 
poverty.  Once  there  he  attempted  himself  to 
talk  on  the  subject  of  Capital  and  Labor,  to 
assist  Kirby's  arguments.  He  made  a  poor 
showing;  but  it  revealed  the  man's  immense 
feeling  that  he  put  forward  the  attempt. 
Finally  he  realized  his  inability.  After  that 
he  confined  himself  to  nods  of  the  head  and 
let  Kirby  go  on  with  all  the  talking. 

Betty  sat  at  one  side  sewing  and  listening. 
The  noise  and  the  repetition  worried  her; 
Kirby  was  so  fierce.  Beside  this,  she  felt  that 
his  talk  was  not  for  the  best.  A  disturbing' 
clement  of  such  a  radical  sort  is  never  wise.  Il 
was  bound  to  bring  dangerous  complications, 
fearful  results.  Yet  she  was  too  sensible  to 
interfere. 

Cyrus,  sitting  stiffly  in  his  chair,  finally 
struck  a  keynote  without  realizing  it. 

"How  are  you  goin'  to  change  it?  That's 
the  point.  You  haven't  any  power.  Neither 
have  I.  We  haven't  even  the  law  with  us.  It 


THE  WARNERS. 

ain't  our  fault,  but  how  are  we  going  to  help 
it?r' 

"I'll  tell  you  how.  I'll  tell  you  just  how !" 
shouted  Kirby,  never  more  furiously  excited. 
"Revolution;  that's  the  means.  A  bloody 
revolution.  We  are  not  so  helpless  as  you 
think.  We're  waiting  for  numbers,  and  we've 
not  so  long  to  wait  either.  We've  most 
enough;  then  we'll  out  with  it.  We'll  unite 
and  start  out  by  blowing  up  things.  We  can 
fix  the  law.  We'll  teach  this  whole  govern- 
ment such  a  lesson  as  it  never  got  before. 
We'll  show  'em  up  at  Washington  that  they 
can't  run  the  whole  country  to  please  two  or 
three  blooming  trust  companies.  You  wait; 
you  just  wait;  there's  revenge  coming  your 
way  all  right.  It  will  be  blood  and  war,  but 
the  more  of  it  the  better.  Blood !  Red !  Hot ! 
Rich !  The  blood  of  those  God-damn  capital- 
ists !"  The  brute  in  him  was  loosed ;  his 
tirades  had  aroused  in  him  an  evil  mania;  it 
was  fast  becoming  a  veritable  obsession.  At 
that  moment  he  was  capable  of  anything. 

"What  right  have  they  to  starve  us,  eh? 
What  right  have  they  to  grind  us  down  to 


132 


THE  WARNERS. 

such  poverty  as  this?"  throwing  his  arms  in 
a  sweeping  gesture  around  the  room. 

Cyrus  winced. 

"Ain't  we  human  ?  Haven't  our  wives  and 
children  feelings,  as  well  as  theirs?  Because 
they  have  millions  where  we  have  cents,  is 
that  any  reason  why  they  need  to  take  all 
we  have.  I  tell  you  we  have  got  to  show 
them  ;  and  that  will  be  done  by  killing.  I  am 
ready  to  begin  right  now." 

Betty  the  demure  arose.  This  thing  had 
gone  as  far  as  she  cared  to  have  it. 

"How  is  Ida?"  she  said. 

It  took  Kirby  two  or  three  seconds  to  re- 
verse his  thoughts.  His  eyes  winked  stu- 
pidly. Then  he  talked  about  his  wife  and 
boy.  He  was  lofty;  referred  to  his  apart- 
ments and  his  wife's  devotion  to  housework. 
But  Betty  reading  the  unspoken  truth  from 
the  flow  of  spoken  sentences  guessed  at  their 
condition. 

After  Kirby  had  departed  Betty  said  to 
Cyrus :  "I  believe  they  are  dreadfully  poor. 
That  man's  ideas  may  be  all  right,  but  they 
won't  buy  bread  and  meat.  If  he  worked 
half  as  much  as  he  talked  he  would  be  richer. 
133 


THE  WARNERS. 

I  am  going  over  to  see  Ida.    Her  eyes  always 
did  predict  a  mournful  life." 

"But  there's  a  lot  in  what  he  says,  Betty; 
something's    wrong    somewhere,    sure.      He 
comes  near  to  hitting  it,"  Cyrus  remarked. 
****** 

A  man's  greatest  devotion  to  a  woman 
comes  when  he  is  not  sure  of  her.  Teddy 
began  to  have  Betty  Warner  on  his  mind. 
He  had  looked  for  an  easy  conquest,  an 
amusing  affair  with  an  exceedingly  young 
and  an  unusually  pretty  country  girl.  In  fact 
it  had  looked  so  simple  and  so  easy  that  he 
was  not  more  than  half  interested.  But,  with 
the  turn  of  their  fortunes  Betty  proved  to  be 
not  so  simple.  She  was  furious  at  her  posi- 
tion ;  she  was  ashamed  of  it  and  humiliated, 
and  she  vented  her  feelings  on  Teddy  in 
strange  and  varied  forms,  all  strictly  feminine. 

She  began  by  extreme  indifference.  He 
found  himself  continually  wondering  if  she 
actually  felt  as  unconcerned  as  she  acted.  He 
wondered  about  it  so  much  that  he  suddenly 
discovered  that  this  girl  was  seldom  out  of 
his  mind.  This  angered  the  elegant  Teddy; 
he  retaliated  by  indifference.  At  this,  Betty 
134 


THE  WARNERS. 

told  him  with  supreme  contempt  that  he 
bored  her,  also  that  she  thought  they  had 
seen  each  other  a  sufficient  number  of  times. 
She  liked  to  be  amused.  He  was  stupid  be- 
yond all  endurance. 

Teddy  gasped.  The  girl  was  evidently  so 
sincere  that  he  swore  under  his  breath, 
promptly  losing  all  semblance  of  not  caring. 
He  strove  mightily  to  please.  All  he  said  and 
all  he  did  was  unavailing. 

"How  absurd  you  are,"  she  commented,  her 
chin  high  in  the  air.  "Do  you  think  I  have 
anything  but  loathing  for  you  and  your  fam- 
ily. Come  to  my  home  and  then  ask  why  I 
do  not  adore  you." 

"But  I  am  not  to  blame,"  he  answered,  with 
an  humbleness  that  was  very  real.  "I  am  dev- 
ilish sorry." 

"Prove  it,"  she  said. 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

"Tell  your  father  to  put  back  the  price  of 
oil,  then  we  can  go  home  and  live.  LIVE,  do 
you  hear !  not  exist  like  rats  in  a  hole.  Look 
at  me.  Look  at  my  hands.  Look  at  my 
clothes.  Oh,  it  is  a  marvel,  isn't  it,  that  I  am 
not  worshipping  you  on  my  knees." 
135 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Damn  it,  you  know  I  can't  do  that.  The 
old  man  has  got  to  keep  this  up.  Your  father 
isn't  the  only  one  he  is  after.  To  put  oil  up 
would  lose  him  thousands." 

"He  has  only  millions,  I  believe.  You  are 
very  tiresome,"  she  sneered. 

But  Betty  did  not  dwell  upon  this  end  of 
the  situation.  The  truth  was  she  knew  how 
far  to  go.  Her  moods  varied — going  with 
incredible  swiftness  from  one  to  another.  At 
one  moment  she  was  adorable,  the  next  sar- 
castic. Sometimes  flippant ;  always  inter- 
esting. 

For  the  first  time  in  Teddy's  career  he  felt 
distinctly  inadequate ;  he  believed  himself  put 
upon  and  abused.  At  the  same  time  he  strug- 
gled somehow  to  make  amends  for  some  in 
definite  thing.  His  one  object  resolved  itself 
into  getting  Betty  into  an  easier  condition. 
When  Teddy  was  away  from  her  he  was  con- 
tinually going  over  their  tete-a-tetes  in  his 
mind.  They  made  him  furious ; — furious  at 
himself,  furious  at  her,  but  he  counted  the 
hours  until  he  should  see  her  again.  The  busi- 
ness was  becoming  absolutely  desperate,  intol- 
lerable.  He  was  always  making  resolves  to 
136 


THE  WARNERS. 

"show  her"  the  next  time  they  met.  But  those 
"showings"  never  came  off.  In  fact  he  did 
not  dare  sulk  with  her — it  was  too  uncertain 
— risky.  He  really  did  not  know  whether  she 
cared  for  him  or  not;  also  by  now,  he  was 
discovering  that  in  some  mysterious  and  un- 
heard-of fashion  he  did  care.  It  might  have 
been  pique  or  vanity  or  hurt  pride :  he  had 
no  desire  to  analyze,  but  that  girl  was  on  his 
brain.  So  he  became  humble,  bowed  to  Fate 
and  submitted  to  her  rule. 

They  saw  each  other  on  irregular  days,  but 
always  twice  a  week.  Teddy  would  drive  to 
the  park  in  great  style,  sending  his  trap  back 
by  the  groom.  Then  he  waited.  He  smoked 
innumerable  cigarettes  and  looked  incessant- 
ly at  his  watch,  furious  that  he  had  come  so 
early. 

He  was  getting  to  be  a  regular  dub,  stand- 
ing around  for  his  girl  like  some  damned 
workingman.  The  whole  thing  was  beyond 
him,  anyway ;  but  at  least  she  might  be  on 
time. 

The  longer  he  waited  the  madder  he  grew ; 
galled  at  the  indignity  he  was  suffering.  Im- 
mediately Betty  came  in  view  the  young  man 
137 


THE  WARNERS. 

subsided.  Never  by  any  possible  chance  did 
she  arrive  first  at  these  appointments. 
Neither  by  any  chance  did  Teddy  complain  to 
her  of  her  tardiness.  His  meekness  was  un- 
assailable. 

The  girl  was  growing  very  self-possessed. 
She  had  entirely  recovered  from  those  quick 
excitements  that  were  once  so  much  a  part 
of  her.  Instead,  she  was  as  demure  as  her 
mother  had  ever  been;  but  there  was  this 
difference :  Betty  the  daughter  was  conscious 
of  everything  she  did ;  Betty  the  mother,  had 
never  known  an  affectation  in  all  her  life. 

She  received  Teddy's  greetings  with  con- 
siderable hauteur,  and  accepted  his  adulation 
as  her  right.  She  gave  nothing,  claimed 
everything,  and  the  young  man  yielded.  The 
truth  was  she  fascinated  him  by  her  complete 
complacence  and  her  strong  personalities. 
Her  airiness  was  not  vulgar,  but  bewitching. 
She  had  a  distinct  aversion  to  sitting  or  walk- 
ing in  the  park — it  was  too  much  like  hired 
help ;  so  the  two  generally  went  to  a  quiet  lit- 
tle German  garden,  where  in  the  afternoon 
they  were  quite  by  themselves.  In  the  winter 
time  the  place  was  all  enclosed  and  heated  by 
138 


THE  WARNERS. 

a  huge  German  stove,  that  reminded  Betty  of 
graves ;  she  did  not  explain  where  the  resem- 
blance came  in;  in  the  summer  it  was  cool 
and  delicious,  with  shady  trees  coming  up  out 
of  a  gravel  floor. 

Betty  did  not  approve  of  liquor,  so  Teddy 
initiated  her  into  the  delights  of  a  very  harm- 
less drink — he  called  it  a  "slo  gin  fizz."  It 
was  nice  because  it  was  so  very  pretty;  like- 
wise, the  taste  was  pleasing. 

"Like  lemonade — something;  only  better," 
she  asserted. 

"It's  not  as  strong  as  lemonade/'  he  an- 
nounced, drinking  his  with  a  disgusted  face. 

When  Betty  chose  she  made  these  meetings 
delightful ;  on  other  occasions  they  were  dis- 
tinct failures.  The  uncertainty  as  to  which 
they  would  be  kept  Teddy  in  a  nervous 
anxiety  to  repeat  them.  He  also  learned 
many  things — when  to  avoid  certain  subjects; 
when  to  introduce  others.  Money  was  ta- 
booed; this  young  man  of  wealth  who  had 
taken  a  serene  enjoyment  in  bragging  of  his 
income  and  his  prospects  and  his  devices  for 
spending  a  fortune,  never  dared  mention  the 
question  now  at  all.  It  was  wonderful  any- 
139 


THE  WARNERS. 

way,  what  Teddy  was  doing  for  this  chit  of 
a  girl.  The  more  his  mind  dwelled  upon  it 
the  keener  he  became  for  a  time  when  he 
could  assert  himself,  and  "show  her,"  "just 
make  her  dance  once  to  his  tune  for  the  vari- 
ety of  the  thing."  That  would  come  when 
he  was  sure  of  her.  He  would  never  be 
strictly  unkind,  and  of  course,  never  exactly 
brutal;  but  she  should  move  to  his  whims, 
not  he  to  hers;  and  once  at  least  he'd  make 
her  dance.  He  would  not  be  continually  sac- 
rificed. 

He  counted  his  time  from  the  moment  he 
was  permitted  to  kiss  her  and  take  her  in  his 
arms.  That  would  fix  her,  and  her  dance. 
If  she  yielded  that  far  she  was  won.  With 
all  Betty's  coquettishness  she  never  gave  lib- 
erties, so  after  all  Teddy  had  some  under- 
standing of  some  women. 

When  he  was  alone  the  young  man  gave 
vent  to  such  thoughts  as  these,  but  all  the 
time  he  was  scheming  and  planning  how  he 
could  make  her  fast  and  sure  to  him ;  he 
had  an  overpowering  desire  to  possess  her. 

When  it  finally  fell  to  him,  schemes  and 


140 


THE  WARNERS. 

plans  had  no  part  in  it.     It  was  just  sheer 
chance. 

Betty's  mother  had  found  work ;  she  went 
now  with  Cyrus  every  morning  at  seven,  tak- 
ing her  lunch  with  her.  It  was  six  when 
she  returned.  Betty  was  left  alone  to  do  the 
work.  All  the  work.  All  alone. 

The  first  meeting  of  Betty  and  Teddy  after 
this  calamity  had  fallen  upon  the  girl  opened 
up  miserably;  she  was  sullen  and  disagree- 
able, and  she  never  looked  prettier  than  in 
her  rage.  Teddy,  all  at  sea,  worked  and 
strove;  it  was  no  use,  she  would  not  be 
pleased ;  finally  the  trouble  came  out.  Teddy 
listened  in  silence. 

"Are  you  quite  through?"  he  asked,  when 
her  recital  of  hardship  was  finished. 

"Quite,"  she  snapped. 

"Then  listen  to  me.  Hereafter  a  woman 
will  arrive  at  your  place  in  the  morning  early, 
seven-thirty,  say;  she  will  do  your  work, 
everything.  I  will  pay  her.  She  will  cook 
and  scrub  and  wash  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
damned  business.  You  will  spend  the  extra 
time  with  me.  The  creature  can  leave  before 
your  people  get  home." 
141 


THE  WARNERS. 

He  leaned  over  and  picked  up  her  hands. 
He  looked  at  them  a  second,  then  he  kissed 
them. 

"What  a  hell  of  a  nuisance,  anyway,"  he 
remarked  vaguely. 

Her  face  was  radiant.  "You  mean  it  ?"  she 
cried,  referring  to  his  offer. 

"Wrill  you  be  kind  to  me  if  I  do?" 

Her  face  darkened.    "I  sell  nothing." 

"Oh,  God,"  he  ejaculated,  angrily,  "I  am 
not  quibbling." 

A  moment  later  she  laughed ;  it  was  a  most 
delicious  laugh.  "Teddy,  be  friends.  You 
are  a  lamb.  I  adore  you,"  she  said,  touching 
him. 

He  turned  on  the  instant :  a  queer  expres- 
sion came  into  his  eyes.  "I  mean  to  have 
you  say  that  in  a  different  tone  some  day.  I 
intend  to  make  you  adore  me,"  he  said. 

There  was  no  banter  in  his  voice,  neither 
was  there  anxiety  expressed  in  her  self-sat- 
isfied countenance. 


142 


CHAPTER  XL 

KINGS  were  working  admirably.  The 
JL  woman  Teddy  sent  was  a  treasure. 
For  the  first  two  weeks  Betty  was 
in  a  terror  of  fear.  If  something  should  hap- 
pen to  make  her  mother  and  the  hired  girl 
meet!  But  nothing  did.  When  her  mother 
and  father  were  safely  off  Betty  went  back 
to  bed.  She  finished  her  sleep  while  the 
woman  clattered  and  worked  and  put 'things 
in  great  order.  Then  at  eleven  she  had  hot 
chocolate  and  a  roll  fresh  from  the  baker's 
served  to  her  in  bed.  This  appeared  the  ex- 
treme of  luxury.  Teddy  paid  for  it.  After 
that  she  spent  a  long  time  in  dressing  and  try- 
ing wonderful  arrangements  of  her  hair.  At 
one  o'clock  she  lunched.  Every  afternoon  she 
spent  with  Teddy — sometimes  driving,  some- 
times at  a  matinee,  occasionally  shopping,  but 
oftener  at  the  little  German  garden.  She  al- 
ways returned  home  well  before  six  o'clock, 
to  change  her  gown  and  finish  getting  supper. 
Her  mother's  praises  on  what  she  did  were 
143 


THE  WARNERS. 

terrible.  The  girl  accepted  them  silently  with 
averted  face.  They  were  a  burden  because 
they  brought  with  them  a  sense  of  guilt. 

Her  father's  heavy  approval  bored  her. 
She  was  continually  comparing  him  to  Teddy. 
She  adored  elegant  men.  Certainly  no  one 
could  accuse  Cyrus  of  elegance. 

This  state  of  things  continued  for  some 
time — nearly  an  entire  winter;  then  Cyrus 
began  coming  home  with  many  tales  to  tell 
of  the  uneasiness  among  the  men  at  the 
''works. "  It  had  been  coming  for  months. 
It  had  its  beginning  in  a  kind  of  club  they 
were  forming.  Cyrus  was  uneasy.  They 
were  finding  fault  with  their  pay,  but  this 
was  a  mere  pretext  for  something  deeper,  he 
believed.  Kirby  was  inciting  discontent  too; 
in  fact,  Kirby  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole 
business.  He  came  each  morning  and  dis- 
tributed copies  of  his  paper  to  the  laborers 
on  their  way  to  work.  The  articles  he  wrote 
were  fierce,  wild  things,  senseless  too,  but 
they  inflamed. 

Cyrus  was  troubled  because  a  strike  meant 
idleness  again ;  perhaps  starvation.  He  was 
willing  to  work  for  any  pay;  he  understood, 
144 


THE  WARNERS. 

however,  that  this  would  not  be  tolerated  if  a 
strike  was  ordered.  He  was  commanded  to 
join  the  society,  but  he  had  refused.  The 
threats  that  followed  his  refusal  he  never  al- 
lowed his  wife  to  hear.  He  and  Betty  talked 
it  over  nightly, — both  alarmed  at  the  situa- 
tion. Was  it  the  beginning  of  another  end  ? 

One  dreary  afternoon  about  four  o'clock 
little  Betty  was  sitting  disconsolately,  her 
hands  in  her  lap.  It  was  too  wet  and  too 
nasty  to  go  out;  the  rain  had  poured  down 
all  day.  She  had  nothing  to  do  ;  the  working 
woman  was  getting  things  ready  for  the  War- 
ners' supper  and  Teddy  was  off  somewhere 
buying  a  horse. 

Suddenly,  without  warning,  Cyrus  opened 
the  door.  He  walked  in,  shaking  the  drops 
of  water  from  off  his  hat. 

Betty  sprang  up  with  a  cry;  she  was 
caught,  trapped.  At  first  she  believed  it  was 
her  mother.  What  should  she  do  ?  When  she 
faced  her  father,  for  once  in  her  life  she  was 
grateful  that  he  looked  at  her  with  eyes 
blinded  by  love;  that  his  wits  were  slow  of 
suspicion;  that  he  was  dull  enough  to  be- 
lieve whatever  she  said. 
145 


THE  WARNERS. 

Her  own  countenance  was  pallid  with  fear. 
Instinct  guided  her  speech. 

"Father,"  she  cried  in  alarm,  "what  is  it? 
Are  you  ill?  I  have  been  ill  too.  So  sick  all 
day  that  this  good  woman  came  in  to  help 
with  our  supper.  I  couldn't  get  it.  I  didn't 
want  to  worry  you  and  mother.  You  both 
work  so  hard.  She,  this  kind  woman,  was 
going  away  just  before  you  came.  You  won't 
tell  mother,  will  you,  about  this ;  she  would 
think  I  was  shirking." 

Her  mother  would  have  known  the  lie  at 
once.  Cyrus'  unhappy  eyes  looking  into  his 
daughter's  face,  saw  only  her  beauty — her  ex- 
treme loveliness,  and  had  no  suspicion. 

"We  won't  tell  mother,  eh  ?  All  right.  Our 
secret — yours  and  mine — ain't  it,  my  girl? 
You  work  too  hard,  anyhow ;  and  now  it  will 
be  worse  than  ever."  His  head  sank. 

"How?    Why?"    she  exclaimed. 

"A  strike,  a  strike's  on.  There  is  no  more 
work.  Those  fools  want  more  pay  and  fewer 
hours.  They  won't  let  any  others  work,  even 
willing  ones." 

"That  means  your  being  home  every  day," 
she  said,  more  than  half  to  herself.  She  was 
146 


THE  WARNERS. 

seeing  herself  at  it  again ;  no  more  help ;  no 
more  afternoons  with  Teddy.  No  more  long 
hours  in  bed  with  chocolate  before  she  was 
up ;  later  on  the  dainty  luncheons  and  drives. 

She  clasped  her  hands  together. 

"Oh,  it's  too  bad;  we  have  the  hardest 
luck  ;  the  hardest  kind  of  luck.  It  isn't  fair," 
and  she  burst  into  tears. 

Cyrus  had  no  word  of  comfort.  The  man's 
spirits  were  at  their  lowest  ebb.  He  needed 
comforting  himself.  He  wandered  around, 
restlessly,  waiting  for  the  other  Betty.  She 
never  failed  him.  Never  once  in  all  the 
years  of  their  married  life  had  she  failed  him. 
He  wanted  her  now  terribly. 

Outside  the  rain  beat  and  beat,  and  dripped 
and  dripped.  It  trickled  down  the  windows; 
it  blew  in  through  the  casements ;  it  stormed 
and  raged  piteously.  When  it  grew  dark  the 
storm  increased. 

At  six  o'clock  Betty  arrived,  exhausted, 
cold  and  wet  to  the  skin.  Cyrus  said  nothing 
of  his  trouble.  He  took  off  her  shoes  and 
chafed  her  icy  feet,  talking  of  the  weather. 
He  heated  her  some  tea  and  made  her  take 
it  strong  and  hot. 

147 


THE  WARNERS. 

The  daughter  stood  looking  on,  wanting  to 
help  but  afraid  to  move  from  Cyrus'  side. 
She  was  in  an  emotion  of  terror  for  fear  that 
stupid  man  would  say  something  of  the  hired 
woman.  She  knew  she  could  never  carry  a 
lie  through  with  her  mother. 

The  girl's  face  was  white  and  strained. 
Along  with  her  fear  she  was  quivering  with 
irritation.  But  Cyrus  was  thinking  only  of 
his  wife — he  had  forgotten  the  "kind  woman." 

Their  supper  that  night  was  not  as  good  as 
usual,  although  no  one  noticed  it.  Cyrus  ate 
rapidly  to  keep  Betty  from  suspecting  any- 
thing, but  he  had  no  knowledge  of  what 
passed  his  lips.  He  wanted  her  to  have  a 
good  night's  rest.  He  was  worried  at  her 
appearance.  Time  enough  to  tell  what  he 
had  to  in  the  morning.  Perhaps  after  a 
night's  rest  her  face  would  seem  less  thin  and 
careworn. 

Neither  of  the  women  could  eat.  They 
picked  and  pretended,  but  each  was  busy  with 
her  own  thoughts. 

The  rain  continued.  By  contrast  the  three 
rooms  looked  less  cheerless — less  lamentably 
desolate. 

148 


THE  WARNERS. 

Cyrus  did  the  dishes;  he  insisted  on  this. 
"You  both  look  done  up,"  he  called  out,  and 
little  Betty  shrank  away  afraid  that  the  sight 
of  her  would  make  him  continue. 

The  mother  choked.  Cyrus'  unflagging 
thoughtfulness  and  care  for  her  touched  her 
aching  heart. 

After  the  last  dish  was  washed  and  wiped, 
Cyrus  undid  the  apron  that  he  had  tied  about 
himself  and  sat  down  with  a  big  breath. 
Betty  the  demure  crossed  the  room  to  him. 
He  took  her  on  his  lap,  his  heart  at  once 
so  full  of  tenderness  and  concern  for  this  wife 
of  his  that  he  forgot  all  his  cares  and  dis- 
couragements. For  a  long  time  they  were 
silent. 

At  last  Betty  raised  her  head  from  his 
stooped,  tired  shoulder.  "Cyrus,"  she  said, 
drawing  a  long  sigh,  "I  received  my  notice 
today;  after  this  week  they  don't  want  me 
any  longer.  I'm  not  quick  enough." 

"I'm  glad  of  it,"  cried  Cyrus  brightly;  "I 
had  no  business  letting  you  go  at  all;  we 
will  get  on  all  right.  Don't  you  worry." 

What  a  capital  thing  it  was  that  he  had  not 
mentioned  the  strike. 

149 


THE  WARNERS. 

All  this  time  the  other  Betty  had  been  lean- 
ing close  against  the  window  where  the  rain 
pattered  and  stormed ;  now  she  rose  sudden- 
ly, struck  by  an  idea:  "Then,  how  are  we 
going  to  live,  I'd  like  to  know,  with  father 
idle,  and  you  idle,  and  no  money  in  the  bank. 
What  are  we  going  to  do  ?"  she  asked  impa- 
tiently. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  her  mother. 

Cyrus  was  making  a  series  of  unintelligible 
signs  to  his  daughter;  she  understood  per- 
fectly what  they  meant,  but  this  thing  had  got 
to  be  faced  some  time.  It  was  quite  as  well 
to  have  it  over  with.  It  was  as  hard  for  her 
as  for  the  others,  certainly. 

"Father  came  home  early  today;  there  is 
a  strike  at  the  works.  He  can't  work  there. 
I  suppose  he  did  not  want  to  let  you  know 
about  it ;  but  you  have  got  to  know  some 
time.  Now,  you  are  out  of  work,  too ;  oh,  it's 
all  too  bad ;  it  isn't  right.  Why  can't  we  go 
back  home  to  the  cottage.  We  might  as  well 
starve  there  as  here,  and  starvation  is  what 
this  means,  sooner  or  later." 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Betty  had  an- 
gered her  father.  He  put  his  wife  off  his  lap, 
150 


THE  WARNERS. 

and  jumped  to  his  feet.  "You  have  been  sup- 
ported all  your  life;  you  have  never  gone 
hungry  that  I  know  of;  you've  never  been 
asked  to  work  that  I  know  of.  You  have 
been  cared  for  and  shielded  from  both.  You 
might  have  spared  your  mother  this  tonight. 
Of  course  it's  got  to  be  faced;  but  she  and 
I  face  it,  not  you.  Go  to  bed.  I  don't  want 
to  hear  anything  more  from  you;  and  next 
time  you  keep  still." 

The  thought  Cyrus  expressed  was  more 
coherent  than  the  words  he  used  in  expressing 
it.  Betty  understood,  and  she  obeyed;  in 
fact  she  was  afraid ;  as  she  left  the  room,  she 
gave  one  glance  towards  her  mother's  white 
face.  There  were  no  signs  of  sympathy  in  it. 
The  girl  choked  back  the  sobs  that  were  com- 
ing. Existence  was  desolate — no  one  cared 
at  all  for  her. 

She  lay  awake  hour  after  hour  until  the 
noises  in  the  streets  were  gone,  and  all  the 
tenants  in  the  great  house  were  quiet.  Only 
the  rain,  pattering  and  beating,  broke  the 
heavy  silence. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  was  whispering  to 
herself ;  "with  both  of  them  home  I  can  have 


THE  WARNERS. 

nothing.  There'll  be  no  money.  We  will 
have  terrible  things  to  eat  or  nothing  at  all ; 
and  my  clothes  patched,  dirty,  coarse.  Then 
the  work — oh,  it  isn't  true;  it  can't  be  true. 
All  my  life  I  must  live  this  way.  I  won't  have 
it  so,  I  won't,  I  won't." 

The  outlook  was  dark ;  darker  and  gloomier 
than  death  itself.  "It  isn't  fair,"  she  wailed, 
as  the  picture  grew  vivid  in  her  mind.  "He 
could  help  us  such  a  lot.  Oh,  what  will  be- 
come of  me.  I  want  to  be  pretty.  I  want  a 
good  time.  I  want  clothes  and  money.  I 
want  to  do  as  other  girls  do."  She  clenched 
her  fists.  The  helplessness  of  her  position 
was  maddening.  "I  will  have  them!  I  will! 
I  WILL!!" 

In  the  room  beyond,  those  other  two 
caught  no  sound  of  Betty's  weeping,  yet 
neither  Cyrus  nor  Betty  the  demure  slept.  It 
was  a  fearful  night.  One  that  lived  in  the 
memory  of  all  three  as  a  horror  that  could 
not  be  forgotten. 

Before  they  were  fairly  through  breakfast 

the  next  morning  Kirby  came  bounding  in; 

he  was  wearing  a  checked  suit  with  a  flaming 

tie  of  red  silk  around  his  neck ;    in  his  but- 

152 


THE  WARNERS. 

ton-hole  was  a  badge — white,  with  a  blind 
Justice  held  by  men  labelled  "Capitalist." 
Around  the  figure  was  the  red  flag  of  Anarchy. 

"Come  with  me,  Cy,  this  is  goin'  to  be  a 
great  day.  I'm  going  to  speak  to  the  men 
over  at  the  works ;  a  mass  meeting.  Ida'll  be 
along  to  do  it  in  German.  We'll  stir  up  some- 
thing that's  worth  while.  Come  along." 

Cyrus  hesitated.  Kirby  during  the  pause 
regarded  him  with  something  approaching 
malignancy.  His  hobby  was  bordering  very 
closely  on  insanity.  Kirby  assumed  that 
every  individual  not  in  accord  with  his  doc- 
trines must  be  sympathizers  with  the  capital- 
ists. His  hatred  of  rich  men  increased  hourly. 
He  could  not  wait  for  the  day  to  arrive  when 
he  could  lead  a  force — a  multitude  of  starving, 
infuriated  men,  wild  with  their  wrongs  and 
mad  for  revenge  against  those  begorged  aris- 
tocrats. 

Now  at  last  the  opportunity  seemed  ripe. 
The  hesitation  of  one  of  the  abused,  enraged 
him. 

"What  t'll  ails  you?  Are  you  crazy?  Are 
you  going  to  stand  still  all  your  life  and  be 
driven  into  a  hole  like  this?  a  place  a  rat 
153 


THE  WARNERS. 

would  run  from,  when  you  could  have  a 
home." 

Cyrus  was  still  motionless  and  silent ;  he 
was  terribly  nonplussed. 

It  was  Betty  who  came  to  his  rescue.  She 
had  put  on  her  hat  and  coat.  Now  she  turned. 
"You  see,  Cyrus  has  promised  to  walk  to  my 
place  with  me.  That's  why  he  hesitated. 
He's  promised.  I  won't  let  him  break  it." 

Kirby  drooped.  The  explanation  was  per- 
fectly valid.  "But  you'll  come  later,  eh.  You 
may  never  have  a  chance  like  this  again.  It's 
a  strike  two  ways.  You  want  to  be  in  it. 
Show  yourself.  Let  'em  know  how  you 
stand." 

The  orator  called  out  the  last  words.  He 
was  already  on  the  stairs,  going  down  rapidly 
in  a  fury  of  impatience  to  get  to  the  scene 
of  excitement. 

"You  must  not  go  near  them,  Cyrus,  dear; 
something  will  happen.  I  know  it.  Proba- 
bly something  dreadful.  You  must  not  go !" 

Cyrus  shook  his  head.  He  always  yielded 
to  Betty.  Now  he  followed  his  own  inclina- 
tion as  well. 

When  her  father  and  mother  were  out  of 
154 


THE  WARNERS. 

sight  Betty  was  off.  She  went  directly  to  the 
Fellows'  house  and  waited  until  she  caught 
sight  of  Teddy. 

"It's  all  over,"  she  announced,  when  he 
joined  her.  "You  tell  your  father  he's  got 
to  do  something.  He's  robbed  my  father. 
You  can't  call  it  anything  else  but  cold- 
blooded, deliberate  robbery;  now  he's  got  to 
make  amends." 

"Betty,  I'll  square  it  with  you." 

"How  can  you;  what  can  you  do?  There 
I  am  working  and  slaving  with  a  father  and 
mother  both  home  every  second,  knowing 
everything  that's  going  on;  knowing  every 
time  I  move.  What  can  you  do?"  She  was 
scornful. 

"I  can  give  you  money." 

"How  can  I  use  it?" 

"Oh,  damn  it,  any  way  you  please." 

"That's  right,  swear.  It's  a  fine  way  to  talk 
to  a  girl.  See  here,  for  the  last  time,  will  you 
tell  your  father  he  must  do  something.  Buy 
that  well  and  pay  for  it  in  cash  at  once.  We 
will  starve.  Simply  starve.  That's  all." 

"Betty,  I  can't  work  the  old  man.  You 
know  that.  See  here ;  there's  one  way  we  can 
155 


THE  WARNERS. 

fix  it ;  quit  the  hovel  where  you  live  and  I 
will  give  you  a  place ;  it  will  be  a  dandy  too. 
You  can  have  all  your  own  servants  and 
dresses  and — all  the  rest  of  it." 

"Yes,  and  Disgrace  too." 

"Why,  don't  I  love  you?  don't  you  love 
me?  I  can't  see  the  complication.  You  think 
it  over ;  I  can't  see  the  disgrace  of  it,  myself. 
Take  your  own  time.  The  offer  is  open. 
Where  will  we  go  today?" 

"I  ought  to  go  home.  Father  will  be 
there." 

There  was  no  great  decision  in  her  voice ; 
it  gave  the  man  an  opportunity  for  assertion. 
"Nonsense ;  if  it  is  our  last,  we  will  make  a 
good  time  of  it."  Teddy  announced. 

She  yielded,  with  no  question. 

Meanwhile  Cyrus  was  on  his  way  home. 
Betty  had  been  taken  safely  to  her  place  of 
employment.  Inadvertently,  Warner  fell  into 
the  very  mass  meeting  Kirby  had  announced 
and  he  had  determined  to  avoid.  It  was  not 
held  at  the  works  at  all,  but  on  the  'street  in 
front  of  a  hall.  The  road  was  packed. 
Mounted  on  the  seat  of  an  empty  truck  in  the 


156 


THE  WARNERS. 

midst  of  black,  shifting  masses,  Kirby  stood. 
He  was  yelling  out  his  words : 

"We  are  accused  of  brutality,  of  want  of 
wisdom.  Why?  Because  we  will  not  allow 
ourselves  to  be  trampled  upon  by  others ;  be- 
cause we  will  not  be  silenced.  \Ve  are  here 
to  stay.  We  are  here  with  a  purpose.  A  re- 
ligion. It  is  the  betterment  of  our  condition, 
— yes,  more, — the  condition  of  all  mankind, 
that  we  are  struggling  for ;  and  betterment  of 
any  kind  was  never  accomplished  without 
revolution.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  must 
unite  and  work  together  in  a  banded  unity. 
We  must  arm  ourselves.  Until  we  are  all 
ready  we  may  be  silenced,  perhaps,  only  to 
make  a  greater  noise  when  our  plans  are  ripe. 
But  trampled  on — Never!" 

There  was  an  angry  repetition  of  the  word 
through  the  crowd,  that  increased  to  an  in- 
articulate shout.  It  surged  and  grew  to  a 
sound  like  the  enraged  growl  of  an  angry 
beast. 

"The  day  must  come,  it  is  not  far  distant 
when  one  of  us  well  armed  will  appear  at  every 
door.  Whoever  has  not  the  sign  or  pass- 
word will  be  shot.  We'll  raise  hell  before 
157 


THE  WARNERS. 

we're  done,"  continued  Kirby.  He  smote  the 
air,  glaring  about  him,  daring  any  one  to  cry 
an  opposition. 

"We  might  as  well  die  fighting  as  starve  to 
death.  Kill  the  capitalists.  Do  it  now. 

"Why  must  there  be  rich  ?  Why  must  there 
be  poor?  Why  not  all  alike?"  remonstrated 
the  orator.  But  at  once  he  became  malevo- 
lent again. 

"You  are  to  keep  the  law  because  your  mas- 
ters refuse  you  employment.  You  are  to  be 
peaceful  because  you  are  hungry  and  without 
a  home  or  a  shelter.  If  you  refuse  to  die  in 
your  hovels,  in  due  observation  of  law  and 
order,  then  you  are  shot  or  hung.  Is  that  it 
—huh? 

"If  that's  the  idea,  then  what  you  want  is 
guns.  What  you  want  is  not  peace  and  law 
and  order,  but  revolution." 

Like  the  roar  of  an  avalanche  the  phrase 
was  taken  up. 

"That  was  it— By  God— Revolution !  Rev- 
olution !  That  was  the  word.  This  man  had 
ideas." 

Kirby  was  intoxicated  with  his  success. 

"We  are  in  the  midst  of  abundance,  yet 
158 


THE  WARNERS. 

we  starve.  We  are  turned  out  of  house  and 
home  by  sharks  who  make  us  ragged  slaves, 
and  beggars.  Vampires  who  starve  us  and 
freeze  us,  and  still  expect  us  to  obey  the  laws. 
Obey  laws!  Well,  who  is  saying  anything 
against  that  ?  Not  you ;  not  I ;  we  do  obey 
the  laws.  Yes,  but  not  the  statute  laws.  We 
obey  the  laws  of  man.  The  natural  laws — 
provided  for  every  rank  of  man.  Those  laws 
that  render  accessible  to  every  man  enough  to 
eat,  enough  to  wear,  enough  to  support  his 
family;  and  we  can  demand  this.  What  we 
need  is  organization.  That's  all  and  that's 
simple.  The  day  for  it  is  come.  Here  now. 
What  can  you  lose? — nothing.  What  can 
you  win? — the  world.  Arm,  brothers,  slaves, 
arm.  It  don't  require  money.  One  man  sup- 
plied with  a  dynamite  bomb  is  equal  to  a 
regiment  of  militia.  Dynamite  is  cheap.  It's 
our  power.  It's  our  protection.  It's  our 
saviour.  Arm  yourselves.  Men,  men,  wake 
up !" 

The  mob  had  been  carried  beyond  excite- 
ment ;  it  had  become  a  howling  pack  of  rabid, 
frenzied    animals, — applauding,    encouraging. 
Kirby  was  frantic.    He  was  yelling  at  the  top 
159 


THE  WARNERS. 

of  his  lungs,  shaking  his  fists  into  the  faces  of 
his  audience. 

"On,  on,"  he  screamed;  "to  the  works, 
where  your  places  are  being  filled.  On,  on  to 
the  works  where  the  scabs  are  making  small 
of  you.  Are  you  going  to  let  the  capitalists 
laugh  at  your  sufferings  and  poverties?" 

Shouts  of  "No,"  "No,"  pierced  the  air. 

"Then  show  them  what  stuff  you're  made 
of.  I'll  lead  you  against  the  tyrants." 

Kirby  stepped  down  from  the  truck.  On 
the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  full  to  the  quick 
of  animal  combativeness  the  crowd  fell  into 
line  behind  this  leader.  There  were  cries  and 
curses  and  beneath  all  these  a  droning  under- 
tone of  great  excitement  and  exasperation. 

"Yes.  Yes  !  On  against  the  tyrants ;  that's 
the  thing.  That's  our  work.  He'll  lead. 
He's  onto  his  job.  We've  been  held  up  long 
enough.  They  won't  play  us  for  suckers  any 
longer." 

Cyrus  in  the  midst  of  the  rabble  had  at- 
tempted once  to  fight  his  way  out.  It  was  no 
use.  He  could  not  get  out.  Instead  he  was 
being  carried  helplessly  along,  against  his  will, 
into  the  very  thing  he  shrank  from  encounter- 
160 


THE  WARNERS. 

ing.  The  man  looked  about  him  stupidly.  It 
was  inexplicable  how  he  had  gotten  here.  He 
was  all  taken  aback  that  he  should  be  joining 
men  in  an  attack  on  other  men.  An  attempt 
to  take  lives.  He  was  willing  to  listen  to 
Kirby  privately,  but  this  was  a  different  thing 
• — listening  and  the  actual  doing  were  vastly 
different. 

Harassed  and  troubled,  Warner  was  swept 
along,  and  on.  When  the  crowd  stopped  he 
looked  up  for  the  first  time,  his  eyes  wide,  his 
lips  apart.  They  were  in  the  street  fronting 
the  works.  Kirby,  still  exercising  his  author- 
ity as  leader,  was  shouting  and  urging  again. 
He  was  not  mounted  now,  and  only  a  few 
of  the  crowd  could  see  him  ;  but  they  all  heard. 

Cyrus  caught  a  glimpse  of  him.  The  or- 
ator was  hatless ;  his  hair,  longer  and  blacker 
than  ever,  streamed  about  his  face.  His  tie 
\vas  loose.  There  was  a  long  rent  in  his 
checked  coat,  his  trousers  were  splattered  with 
mud.  His  linen  was  fearfully  rumpled  and 
soiled ;  he  began  to  talk  of  the  interests  that 
affected  not  individuals  but  whole  classes ;  the 
fairness  of  the  strikers'  present  demands.  He 
advised  them  not  to  hesitate. 
161 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Force  your  demands — by  blood,  if  neces- 
sary." He  was  absolutely  reckless  by  now, 
no  longer  weighing  his  words.  Also  repeat- 
ing himself  with  great  frequency. 

In  the  midst  of  this  harangue  there  was  a 
stir  and  commotion  around  the  corner.  One 
began  to  distinguish  the  quick  sharp  tramp 
of  regular  footsteps.  By  degrees  the  sound 
grew  nearer.  Two  companies  of  blue-coated 
policemen  were  swinging  into  the  street.  They 
were  headed  toward  the  crowd.  Rank  after 
rank  of  strong,  able-bodied  men  ready  for 
duty. 

The  sight  was  so  unexpected  every  face  in 
the  mob  turned  stupid  and  heavy.  Kirby  took 
it  all  in.  On  the  second  he  scented  a  possible 
wavering  of  sentiment.  It  was  now  or  never ; 
he  would  stand  firm.  Cowardice,  at  least, 
would  never  be  laid  at  his  door. 

"Here  come  the  bloodhounds, "he  screamed. 
"At  'em.  At  'em.  Do  your  duty." 

But  as  his  voice  ceased  a  sudden  chill  ran 
over  the  multitude.  That  fear  of  the  law,  in- 
born in  crude  natures,  was  rising.  Those  of- 
ficers had  come  prepared  to  force  order ;  that 
was  evident.  They  carried  in  their  hands  re- 
162 


THE  WARNERS. 

volvers — loaded  and  cocked ;  ready  for  imme- 
diate use.  Duty  was  all  right  sometimes. 
Now  it  meant  facing  death,  courting  death ; 
flaunting  their  bodies  as  targets  before  these 
lines  of  creatures  who  could  fire  straight. 

Men  mad  for  blood  a  moment  before  began 
to  slink  away  one  by  one.  A  great  babble  of 
noise  arose;  not  voices  of  protest  but  of 
peace,  and  the  tones  were  apologetic. 

Confusion  and  terror  of  personal  combat 
ran  riot.  The  fatal  instant  had  passed  and 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  was  as  yet 
paramount. 

Kirby  was  transfixed;  he  watched  these 
men  who  were  creeping  away  with  averted 
heads  and  shrinking  bodies,  and  for  the  mo- 
ment he  could  not  understand.  Only  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  rage  and  fury  seized  him.  He  saw 
himself  suddenly  transformed  from  a  leader 
to  a  man  humiliated,  shamed,  deserted.  The 
overthrow  of  his  influence  roused  him  beyond 
all  control.  What  did  it  all  mean  ?  Did  they 
guess  for  one  minute  that  they  could  throw 
him  down  like  this?  Well,  they'd  find  out 
they  couldn't.  That  was  all  he  had  to  say. 


163 


THE  WARNERS. 

He'd  show  them,  by  God.  He  simply  wouldn't 
have  it. 

Everything  was  dwarfed  beside  this  gigantic 
insult.  The  cause  itself  became  insignificant. 
The  orator  sprang  up  with  a  cry  that  echoed 
blocks  away,  waving  his  arms  at  the  groups 
of  disappearing  men. 

"You  cowards !"  he  cried ;  "if  you  won't 
make  your  own  strike  for  liberty  I'll  do  it  for 
you.  Oh,  if  I  could  reach  you  once — just 
once,  I'd  make  you  sweat.  But  I'll  show  you, 
anyhow." 

He  clenched  his  fists;  his  face  purple  and 
swollen. 

Nobody  minded  him.  His  cry  went  un- 
heeded. It  is  hard  to  have  told  what  would 
have  happened  then  if  this  leader  of  men  had 
not  suddenly  found  himself  gripped  from  be- 
hind by  the  arms.  When  he  turned  with  an 
oath  it  was  to  find  himself  face  to  face  with 
Cyrus. 

Kirby's  fury  was  a  thing  of  almost  instan- 
taneous action.  It  radiated  unceasingly  from 
wildness  to  passiveness.  His  insult  for  the 
moment  was  completely  forgotten  now  Cyrus 
had  been  here  to  witness  his  personal  trium- 
164 


THE  WARNERS. 

phant  exhibition  of  bravery.  The  Warners 
would  always  know  what  a  marvelous  thing 
he  had  accomplished.  His  pride  was  so  great 
that  he  could  not  reinstate  his  wrath  even 
when  he  tried. 

He  forgot  his  yelling  and  his  humiliation, 
his  dire  threats.  He  was  quite  beside  himself 
with  joy  that  he  was  discovered  in  the  very 
midst  of  an  heroic  roll. 

"Wasn't  it  great,  Cy — just  great,"  he  kept 
saying  again  and  again.  "I  had  those  fellows 
in  the  palm  of  my  hand,  moving  'em  to  my 
will.  It's  a  grand  power.  I  have  to  be  care- 
ful not  to  abuse  it.  I  told  you  we'd  raise  hell ; 
and  we  did.  Ain't  through  yet.  either.  You 
see  what  it  took  to  clear  the  street,"  pointing 
with  undisguised  vanity  to  the  police.  "Well, 
you  wait  till  our  next  meeting.  It'll  take  am- 
bulances to  clear  the  road  then,  and  don't  you 
forget  it." 

While  he  talked,  Cyrus  had  been  leading  the 
orator  away  from  the  scene  of  the  disturbance. 
They  crossed  the  street,  emptied  now  of  all 
except  the  police,  and  went  undisturbed  down 
an  alley,  walking  through  ash-heaps  and 
mounds  of  garbage.  Kirby  all  this  time  was 
165 


THE  WARNERS. 

unconscious  of  where  he  stepped.  He  swag- 
gered tremendously  as  he  told  of  his  teach- 
ings ;  but  he  was  trembling  with  the  after  ef- 
fects of  the  excitement. 

Cyrus  kept  still,  apparently  listening  to 
Kirby's  boasts.  When  they  were  well  away 
from  the  police  Warner  caught  hold  of  his 
friend's  shoulders  and  shook  him  roughly. 

"You  stop.  You  stop  that  rot,  and  listen 
to  me  a  minute.  You're  making  a  damn  fool 
of  yourself,  just  a  show,  and  no  mistake. 
What  are  you  thinking  of,  anyhow  ?  You've 
done  enough  already  to  put  you  in  prison.  If 
you  don't  look  out  you'll  get  there  with 
murder  to  answer  for.  You  got  to  stop, 
Kirby.  Do  you  hear?" 

Kirby  gaped  at  Warner  in  open-mouthed 
astonishment.  How  dared  this  man  criticise ; 
a  laboring  man,  too.  Incredible ! 

"I'm  a  fool,  am  I,"  he  growled,  pulling  him- 
self free  from  Cyrus'  heavy  grasp.  "Well,  I 
know  what  I'M  about,  anyhow.  Some  day 
you  will,  too.  You  ain't  in  sympathy  with  our 
society,  eh?" 

He  put  the  question  roughly. 

166 


THE  WARNERS. 

"I  ain't  in  sympathy  with  murderers;  if 
that's  what  you  mean." 

"You  want  to  stand  right  where  you  are,  do 
you?  Get  thrown  down  by  every  bloke 
that's  got  a  cent.  I  thought  you'd  been  done 
out  of  enough  to  make  you  see  some  things 
by  now.  You  are  willing  to  die  in  the  poor- 
house,  are  you? — rot  there  along  with  your 
women  at  the  government's  expense." 

"No,  I  ain't,"  said  Cyrus,  exasperated.  "But 
you  and  this  mob  ain't  goin'  at  the  business 
in  a  way  to  prevent  it.  If  I  don't  get  rich, 
at  least  I  won't  get  hung.  More  than  that,  I 
never  could  see  the  right  of  killing  under  any 
conditions." 

They  went  on  in  silence.  With  any  other 
man  Kirby  by  now  would  have  been  quarrel- 
ing, but  some  strange  affection  that  from  the 
first  had  stirred  his  heart  toward  Cyrus  still 
burned  within  his  violent  nature. 

He  was  hurt  and  disturbed,  but  he  was  not 
angry.  He  was  so  aggrieved  that  he  was 
overcome  with  self-pity.  Some  day  Cyrus 
would  understand.  Kirby  would  simply  go 
on  with  his  work  and  wait  for  Cyrus  when 
that  day  came.  His  eyes  were  moist  as  he 
167 


THE  WARNERS. 

realized  his  own  magnanimity  towards  this 
unreasoning  friend.  He  saw  himself  in  the 
future  a  martyred  hero  to  the  cause  of  the 
laboring  man,  sacrificing  his  life  and — and 
his  family — for  the  principles  he  espoused. 
That  he  was  misunderstood  now  was  but  a 
part  of  the  whole.  Cyrus  should  have  under- 
stood, but  his  misunderstanding  he  forgave 
freely.  He  found  himself  pitying  Cyrus,  too, 
for  when  the  future  came,  that  future  that 
would  show  the  name  of  Kirby  to  be  worthy 
of  canonization — Cyrus  would  be  miserable. 

This  was  all  the  nobility  of  his  own  nature 
asserting  itself  even  in  his  moment  of  ex- 
treme discouragement.  His  head  lifted;  he 
was  breathing  hard.  The  greatest  reformers 
had  been  the  greatest  sufferers.  He  was  re- 
signed. 

Cyrus  left  Kirby  at  the  tenement  where  Ida 
and  the  baby  lived  in  two  wretched  rooms. 
Then  Warner  pushed  on,  to  his  own  home 
hurriedly.  He  wondered  at  finding  no  one  in. 
The  rooms  were  dirty  and  grimy;  they  were 
full  of  the  smells  of  night,  the  beds  unmade 
and  soiled  dishes  lying  around  in  little  piles. 
Cyrus  got  out  his  apron  and  went  to  work. 

Meanwhile,  Kirby  gave  great  accounts  to 
168 


THE  WARNERS. 

Ida  of  the  success  of  the  day.  He  worked 
all  the  episodes  out  with  his  arms.  Ida's 
white  face  burned.  Her  hands  twitched  ner- 
vously, as  she  listened.  Kirby  was  suddenly 
excessively  buoyant.  He  pummeled  his  boy 
in  affected  imitation  of  a  prize-fighter;  tfren 
he  tossed  the  sickly  child  roughly  in  the  air 
and  laughed  at  the  big  frightened  eyes  that 
peered  down  at  him.  This  son  was  named 
Reinsdorf  Fisher — after  an  apostle  of  An- 
archy. He  was  a  pathetic  little  fellow,  easily 
frightened  and  happy  in  intense  quiet.  He 
seemed  a  parody  on  his  raging,  loud-voiced 
father,  of  whom  he  was  fearfully  afraid. 

"Our  next  meeting  is  at  the  hall  tomorrow 
night.  If  the  crowd's  too  big  we  will  have  it 
in  the  street.  You've  got  to  be  there.  Take 
the  boy  along.  It's  a  good  thing  for  him  to 
hear  and  see.  We  will  take  some  of  the  good 
stuff  with  us,  Ida,  to  have  it  handy." 

Mrs.  Kirby's  eyes  dilated  in  horror;  she 
looked  wildly  at  her  husband.  He  had  re- 
leased Reinsdorf  and  was  bringing  a  large 
box  across  the  floor ;  it  was  full  of  sawdust  and 
very  heavy.  The  man  sat  down  beside  it, 
working  his  hands  through  the  siftings  cau- 
tiously. 

169 


THE  WARNERS. 

Suddenly  Ida  picked  up  her  boy,  straining 
his  little  figure  close  to  her. 

"Kirby,  you  are  not  going  to  take  that  to- 
morrow night,"  she  cried. 

Kirby  looked  up.  "What  ails  you?"  he 
growled. 

"But  the  boy.  I'm  not  afraid  for  myself; 
but  the  boy.  If  anything  should  happen  and 
he  was  hurt.  Oh,  let  me  leave  him  here.  It 
might  mean  his  death." 

Then  Kirby  arose.  In  his  hands  he  was 
holding  a  short  piece  of  lead  pipe  that  he  had 
just  picked  out  of  the  sawdust.  One  end  was 
plugged.  From  out  of  the  other  hung  a  long 
fuse.  Raising  this  instrument  of  death  over 
the  woman's  head,  he  cried  aloud :  "It  would 
be  his  baptism  in  the  fire  of  a  good  cause.  I 
could  ask  no  better  thing !  I  do  ask  no  better 
thing  than  that  you  both  may  give  your  lives 
to  the  gospel  that  we  preach." 

His  eyes  were  a  narrow  squint  of  fire.  He 
was  fearfully  in  earnest.  It  was  as  if  he  were 
possessed  with  the  mania  of  Death.  The 
woman  shuddered.  She  was  holding  the  boy 
hugged  to  her  so  closely  that  suddenly  he  be- 
gan to  send  up  a  soft,  painful  wail. 
170 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  meeting  did  not  come  off  the  next 
night,  for  it  rained.  All  day  long  the 
water  poured  down  in  torrents,  and 
Kirby  addressed  a  few  followers  indoors.  He 
set  the  time  for  a  full  gathering  a  week  ahead. 
Ida  stayed  home  with  the  boy;  likewise,  the 
"good  stuff"  remained  harmlessly  in  its  box. 

But  this  postponement  brought  little  peace 
to  the  wretched  woman.  Every  nerve  in  her 
fragile  body  was  racked  and  aching — her  mind 
was  disordered  with  schemes  to  avert  what 
was  to  come.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that 
she  could  refuse  to  obey  Kirby — the  question 
was,  how  to  obey  and  protect  her  child  at  the 
same  time. 

She  couldn't  take  her  boy  to  that  final  meet- 
ing— the  meeting  of  desperate  men  armed 
with  desperate  means.  It  was  as  if  something 
was  showing  her  the  end  before  the  end  had 
come,  and  it  forbade  that  baby's  presence. 
Once  a  wild  idea  shot  through  her  brain  ; 
she  would  take  Reinsdorf  and  run  away. 

Contemplation  of  this  idea  showed  its  use- 
171 


THE  WARNERS. 

lessness.  It  required  money — everything  re- 
quired money.  The  Kirbys  had  absolutely 
nothing. 

Ida  went  over  and  over  everything,  torn 
with  a  conflict  of  emotions.  She  believed  with 
her  entire  soul  in  the  equal  rights  of  individ- 
uals, but  she  had  no  desire  to  express  this 
belief  when  words  meant  danger  to  her  boy. 
He  must  escape  the  doom  that  was  hovering 
near  by — with  her  it  made  no  difference. 
What  odds  was  it  if  with  her  the  worst  came 
to  the  worst  ? 

Hourly  the  situation  at  the  works  grew 
more  desperate.  The  hungrier  the  strikers 
became  the  less  cautious  they  were  of  their 
lives — the  more  they  listened  to  Kirby. 

"Plug  some  of  those  fellows  and  see  how 
long  before  things  come  your  way,"  he  kept 
repeating. 

He  was  drinking  a  good  deal  now ;  lack  of 
food  sent  the  liquor  directly  to  his  brain. 
In  this  condition  his  passion  against  capital- 
ists became  savagery;  but  his  oratory  kept 
pace  with  his  fury.  His  flow  of  words  was  as- 
tonishing; more  than  that,  he  had  not  the 
least  concern  about  what  he  said  or  urged. 
172 


THE  WARNERS. 

He  was  absolutely  careless,  fearless,  desper- 
ate. So  were  the  men  to  whom  he  talked. 

At  the  Warners  life  was  not  gay.  Betty 
the  demure  gave  out.  It  was  a  combination 
of  worry,  work  and  no  nourishment.  Cyrus 
was  like  a  crazy  man.  He  hung  over  his  wife 
day  and  night,  wild  with  alarm,  beside  him- 
self with  nervousness ;  nothing  she  could  say 
comforted  him;  the  man  was  all  unnerved. 
Occasionally,  from  sheer  exhaustion  he  would 
fall  asleep  in  a  chair  as  he  watched,  and  lie  in 
a  heavy  stupor.  Then  Betty  would  scarcely 
breathe  for  fear  of  arousing  him ;  but  his  rest 
was  gone  in  a  moment.  All  at  once  he  would 
start  up  haunted  by  a  terrible  dream ;  a  dream 
that  showed  Betty  dead ;  cold,  white,  fearfully 
motionless.  For  hours  afterwards  he  would 
be  afraid  to  sit — the  fear  of  sleeping  again  and 
seeing  that  vision  was  maddening. 

He  took  care  of  his  wife  as  he  would  have  a 
child.  His  gentleness  was  pathetic — his  awk- 
wardness pitiful.  She  would  not  have  a  doc- 
tor, insisting  that  all  she  needed  was  rest. 
She  did  not  add  "food,"  because  it  would  only 
have  hurt  Cyrus  and  done  no  good.  The 
Warners,  like  the  Kirbys,  had  nothing.  Cyrus 
173 


THE  WARNERS. 

understood,  however,  and  one  night  he  came 
in  with  an  armful  of  things ;  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  Cyrus  had  gone  in  debt. 

During  her  mother's  illness  Betty  the 
younger  was  at  home  very  seldom ;  she  pre- 
tended she  was  searching  for  work;  instead, 
she  was  spending  every  day  with  Teddy.  This 
young  man  felt,  and  with  reason,  that  his  hour 
had  almost  come.  His  turn  at  last.  It  had 
been  a  long,  hard,  ridiculous  fight.  Under 
the  circumstances  it  spoke  well  for  his  pa- 
tience and  his  strategy  that  it  was  coming  out 
his  way. 

Betty  was  in  her  seventeenth  year,  and  the 
fame  of  her  beauty  was  spreading.  Her  abil- 
ity of  attracting  men  was  very  noticeable. 
When  she  began  to  appreciate  all  this  her 
wisdom  flew  away. 

"There  is  no  reason  why,  with  proper  dress 
and  care  and  money,  I  should  not  make  a 
great  place  for  myself,"  she  announced. 

After  this  her  selfishness  was  supreme.  Her 
consideration  for  her  father  and  mother  was 
wiped  out  of  existence  by  her  consideration 
for  herself.  "They'll  never  miss  me  as  long 
as  they  have  each  other;  and,  after  all,  why 
174 


THE  WARNERS. 

should  I  spend  my  beauty  and  my  life  scrub- 
bing three  nasty  rooms  in  a  common  tene- 
ment." 

It  was  a  cold-blooded  argument  in  favor  of 
the  final  step.  It  proceeded  from  a  cold- 
blooded nature.  In  reality  there  was  no  hesi- 
tation whatever  in  Betty's  mind.  She  did  not 
care. 

At  seven  o'clock  on  the  night  set  for  the 
mass  meeting,  Kirby  again  stopped  for  Cyrus. 
Betty  was  up,  for  the  first  time  in  days — very 
pallid  and  very  weak,  but  better. 

"I've  sent  Ida  and  Reinsdorf  on  ahead. 
Come  on,  Cy,  it'll  be  a  big  thing.  Don't  you 
try  to  stop  him,  Mrs.  Warner.  It's  going  to 
be  something  no  laboring  man  wants  to  miss." 

"She  ain't  stopping  me,"  broke  in  Cyrus, 
promptly  indignant.  "She's  been  sick.  I 
can't  leave  her.  I  won't  leave  her." 

Then  Kirby  clamored  at  Cyrus'  backsliding 
and  left  the  house  furiously  angry. 

When  he  came  to  the  meeting  place  the 
square  was  crowded ;  packed  with  a  sweating, 
howling  horde  of  bestial  men.  It  was  an  easy 
matter  to  incite  them  to  riot  or  murder.  That 
was  what  they  had  come  there  for ;  they  were 
175 


THE  WARNERS. 

gnawed  with  hunger ;  they  were  tired  and  dis- 
couraged and  mad. 

They  welcomed  Kirby  vociferously.  When 
Ida  and  the  boy  mounted  the  platform  beside 
him,  and  Kirby  pointed  to  them  as  his  willing, 
living  sacrifices  on  the  altar  of  their  sacred 
cause,  the  noise  that  broke  out  was  terrifying. 

"This  revolution  can  never  be  accomplished 
except  over  ruins  and  ashes ;  over  blood  and 
dead  bodies.  Are  you  ready  to  begin?" 

"Yes.     Yes !"  answered  the  frantic  mob. 

"Then  come  on,"  he  yelled,  waving  his 
hands. 

Ida  pulled  out  a  red  flag  and  unfurled  it. 
Standing  between  her  boy  and  her  husband, 
she  marched  first  down  the  street,  the  motley 
pack  in  full  cry  behind  her.  Her  boy  was 
panting  with  exhaustion.  Down  his  livid  baby 
face  ran  tears  of  excitement  and  of  terror. 
His  tiny  hands  alternately  applauded  and  beat 
the  air. 

The  mother  dared  not  look  at  him.  Some- 
times she  caught  her  breath  in  sharp  hisses. 
The  acuteness  of  the  pain  she  was  bearing 
stabbed  her. 

They  were  living  sacrifices.  Kirby  had 
176 


THE  WARNERS. 

spoken  truly.     Her  baby  was  the  sacrifice  of- 
fered by  the  father,  sanctioned  by  the  mother. 

She  gripped  the  red  flag  of  anarchy,  flaunt- 
ing it  above  her  head.  She  waved  it,  trying  to 
screw  up  her  courage,  striving  to  hide  the  de- 
sire that  tempted  her ;  a  desire  to  creep  away 
somewhere  with  her  baby  and  rest.  Away 
from  the  turmoil  that  she  hated  and  the  noise 
that  hurt  her.  But  they  were  wanted  here. 
At  the  head  of  this  death's  march.  It  was 
duty  after  all.  The  duty  she  herself  years  be- 
fore had  preached  about. 

With  a  sudden  impetuosity,  the  woman  be- 
gan to  sing.  A  terrible  song.  Her  voice 
rose  high,  shrill,  strident,  above  the  din  of 
those  tramping  feet.  In  less  than  a  second 
the  song  was  taken  up,  pouring  out  of  a  thou- 
sand steaming  throats,  a  grisly  sound. 

All  at  once  there  came  the  cry,  "The  blood- 
hounds !  The  bloodhounds !" 

Kirby's  face  went  white  like  ashes.  He 
gave  one  look  in  front;  one  at  his  wife  and 
child  by  his  side,  and  then  he  forgot  every- 
thing. 

"Let  'em  have  it,"  he  shouted. 

This  time  there  was  no  fear  in  his  mind 
that  those  men  would  desert. 
177 


THE  WARNERS. 

On  marched  the  two  groups  of  men,  com- 
ing nearer  and  nearer,  in  absolute  silence. 
The  singing  had  ceased.  The  uproar  had 
stilled  itself.  There  was  not  a  murmur;  it 
was  the  grewsome  stillness  preceding  the  aw- 
ful breaking  of  a  torrent.  When  the  police 
were  within  three  feet  of  Ida  the  captain  of 
the  force  raised  his  hands : 

"I  call  upon  you  in  the  name  of  the  people 
to  disperse,"  he  cried. 

"We  are  here  to  do  our  duty,"  replied 
Kirby.  "Men,  do  your  duty,"  he  shouted 
back  over  his  shoulder. 

At  that,  and  still  in  silence  there  came  a 
movement  from  the  center  of  the  mob.  A 
spark  rose,  flashed  through  the  air.  It  swung 
over  the  heads  of  the  men  with  a  hiss  and  a 
splutter,  aimed  straight  toward  the  lines  of 
blue-coated  men.  It  fell  short;  with  a 
bound  it  dropped  directly  at  the  feet  of  Ida 
and  Reinsdovf.  Instantly  there  came  a  ter- 
rific explosion,  a  noise  that  deafened  the  ears 
and  rolled  away  with  the  rip  of  a  thunder 
crash,  throwing  its  echoes  back  from  between 
the  walls. 

For  a  moment  no  one  seemed  to  know 
what  had  happened.  The  multitude  was 


THE  WARNERS. 

paralyzed  with  fright.  Then  a  terrible  scene 
began.  First  the  uproar  broke  loose.  It 
rose  from  a  mutter  to  a  hurricane  of  sound. 
There  were  cries  of 

"Save  yourselves !" 

"Let  'em  have  it !" 

"Bombs!"  "Bombs!" 

"Look  out  for  another !" 

Every  one  talked  at  once,  spitting  out 
words  between  curses  and  cries.  The  brute 
instinct  of  self-preservation  at  any  cost  was 
leaping  to  the  surface.  It  was  the  idea  of 
every  man  there  to  get  away.  If  doing  this 
meant  crushing  his  neighbor — why,  crush, 
that  was  all  right.  Batter  out  life  if  neces- 
sary. 

The  streets  cleared  as  if  by  magic;  the  ef- 
forts of  the  officers  were  superfluous. 

But  two  people  up  in  front  did  not  struggle 
or  fight,  or  cry.  A  little  child  with  a  livid  face 
and  wide-opened,  haunted  eyes,  and  a  body  all 
wet  and  splotched  with  blood  lay  silent  on  a 
woman's  lap ;  she  was  sitting  on  a  piece  of 
torn  pavement.  Across  her  had  fallen  the  red 
flag  of  Anarchy,  soaking  fast  with  the  redder 

blood  that  flowed  from  a  great  hole  in  her 
179 


THE  WARNERS. 

side.  Her  hair  was  wet  and  matted  with  blood 
from  another  wound  in  her  head.  Drop  by 
drop  this  ran  down  her  cheeks  unheeded.  Yet 
all  this  time  she  crooned  to  the  baby.  How 
she  lived  to  do  it  no  one  knew.  No  one  but 
a  mother  could  have  breathed,  hurt  as  she  was 
hurt. 

Kirby  stood  by  them  unharmed.  He  looked 
at  them  stupidly,  his  eyes  wandering  in  in- 
definite search  along  the  ground,  but  always 
coming  back  to  them — those  two,  his  wife 
and  his  son.  He  made  no  effort  to  touch 
them ;  once  he  raised  his  head  to  the  group 
of  faces  that  surrounded  him  and  began 
to  cry  out  unintelligible  things.  It  was  as  if 
he  asked  aid.  But  when  one  of  those  men, 
moved  to  pity,  put  out  a  hand  towards  him  he 
started  up  from  the  ground  panic-stricken. 
No  hands  should  restrain  him.  He  had  no 
idea  what  he  did  nor  where  he  went.  He  sim- 
ply followed  that  same  inborn  instinct  that  had 
possessed  the  mob. 

Darting  like  a  terror-stricken  animal,  he 

dodged  and  ran  and  hid.     Once,  going  with 

full  speed  he  hit  with  fearful  force  against  a 

building;  a  cry  of  rage  and  pain  broke  from 

180 


THE  WARNERS. 

his  lips ;  but  he  kept  on  and  on,  and  the  place 
where  he  finally  stopped  was  Cyrus  Warner's. 

The  rooms  were  dark ;  the  door  was  locked. 
Kirby  pounded  and  called.  Cyrus  came  at 
last,  groping  his  way  sleepily  across  the  floor 
by  the  light  of  a  candle. 

Kirby  entered.  "For  God's  sake !"  gasped 
Cyrus. 

Kirby  came  forward.  He  was  suddenly  un- 
able to  walk.  His  legs  tottered;  all  his 
strength  was  gone.  Across  his  shirt  there  was 
a  red  streak.  His  left  arm  hung  limp  and  use- 
less by  his  side. 

"For  God's  sake,  what  is  it?"  repeated 
Cyrus. 

Kirby  sank  into  a  chair.  Betty,  alarmed  by 
her  husband's  cry,  came  out. 

"What  is  it?  Yes;  that's  it;  what  is  it?" 
he  mumbled  breathlessly. 

"Ida!     Is  it  Ida?"  called  Betty,  sharply. 

"Yes.  Yes;  Ida.  That's  it.  Ida.  They 
were  a  sacrifice.  That's  it.  A  living  sacri- 
fice." The  man's  face  lighted  up.  His  eyes 
rolled.  Betty  shivered. 

"Cyrus,  something  terrible  is  the  trouble. 
We  must  go  and  see,"  she  whispered,  her  lips 
white. 

181 


THE  WARNERS. 

Cyrus  nodded. 

"Perhaps  murder,"  Betty  went  on. 

Cyrus  stared  dumbly,  first  at  her  and  then 
at  Kirby.  While  Cyrus  was  waiting  for  Betty 
to  dress  Kirby  muttered. 

He  told  of  living  sacrifices,  and  exclaimed 
loudly:  "It  was  duty !"  But  he  would  answer 
no  questions.  In  fact,  his  mind  did  not  seem 
to  work  at  all. 

Together  Cyrus  and  Betty  got  the  man  to 
his  home.  The  horror  that  seized  Betty  as 
she  was  about  to  actually  step  foot  into  the 
Kirbys'  two  small  rooms  made  her  faint.  Her 
throat  was  choked  with  a  lump  that  filled  it. 

Once  inside  there  was  nothing  terrible  to  be 
seen.  Nothing  to  show  that  murder  had  been 
committed,  or  anything  wrong  attempted. 

"What  is  all  the  trouble,  anyway?"  she 
asked,  sharply,  shaking  Kirby's  shoulder. 

Then  the  man  began  little  by  little  to  ex- 
plain. He  told  enough  to  let  them  guess  the 
rest.  As  he  finished,  out  in  the  street  there 
was  the  clang  of  a  patrol  wagon.  The  sound 
of  that  bell  sent  a  fierce,  unreasoning  terror 
into  the  mind  of  the  orator.  It  started  his 
wits  out  of  their  sluggishness.  He  threw 
himself  wildly  upon  Cyrus. 
182 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Save  me  from  them.  They've  come  for 
me ;  to  take  me.  I  didn't  kill  them,  Cy ;  you 
know  that.  Help  me.  Don't  let  'em  have 
me.  Keep  me  safe  until  after  Ida  and  the  boy 
are  cared  for." 

He  cried  and  wept  and  begged,  beside  him- 
self. He  dragged  himself  across  the  floor, 
tugging  at  Cyrus'  knees. 

Cyrus  picked  him  up.  He  would  have 
sought  to  hide  his  friend ;  he  pulled  the  orator 
half  across  the  room;  but  he  hadn't  time. 
There  was  a  clamor  at  the  door;  Cyrus 
dropped  his  burden.  Kirby  gave  a  scream. 
A  moment  later  two  policemen  entered.  Fol- 
lowing them  came  more  policemen,  carrying  a 
stretcher.  On  this  lay  the  bodies  of  Ida  and 
Reinsdorf;  the  bodies  of  the  two  sacrificed 
for  the  cause  of  the  Laboring  Man. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FOR  days  afterward  Betty  was  constantly 
seeing  those  two  poor  bodies  before 
her.     She  couldn't  get  away  from  the 
sight.     The  infinite  pity    of    the    thing    had 
shaken  her  more  than  the  horror.  Night  after 
night  she  would  wake  up  trembling  and  fright- 
ened and  calling  to  Cyrus :     "Oh,  oh,  Cyrus,  I 
saw  it  all  so  plainly — Ida  and  that  poor  baby." 
Then  Cyrus  soothed  and  quieted  as  best  he 
could.     Time  and  again  this  was  repeated. 

Ida  and  Reinsdorf  were  buried  as  became 
sacrifices,  with  much  pomp  and  ceremony  and 
no  real  feeling.  Kirby  sat  through  the  serv- 
ices guarded  on  each  side  by  a  policeman.  He 
was  stolid,  apparently  unmoved;  but  there 
was  a  light  in  his  continually  rolling,  roving 
red  eyes  that  showed  why  emotion  had  not 
come  to  him. 

After  the  funeral  this  orator,  who  had  in- 
cited the  riot  was  led  back  to  jail.     Kirby  was 
waiting  his  trial  for  murder — the  murder  of 
his  wife  and  child.     Outside,    a  crowd  had 
184 


THE  WARNERS. 

collected,  so  that  extra  policemen  had  come 
to  force  a  passageway  through  the  throng. 
Kis  name  was  on  every  one's  lips.  The  whole 
story  was  spread  broadcast.  Every  one  stood 
staring  and  peering.  As  he  walked  down  the 
steps  toward  the  patrol  wagon  a  subdued 
murmur  followed  him. 

It  was  evening  before  Cyrus  and  Betty 
reached  their  home.  She  was  pale  and  hol- 
low-eyed. Cyrus  had  been  terribly  overcome 
during  the  day.  His  great  heart  ached  with 
the  pathos  and  dreadfulness  of  the  whole 
affair. 

Once  inside  their  rooms  the  two  noticed 
immediately  the  appearance  of  neglect  over 
everything.  With  a  sudden  instinctive  fear 
the  mother  rushed  into  the  daughter's  room. 
Things  were  in  great  confusion,  as  though 
there  had  been  a  hurried  gathering  together  oi 
clothes.  On  the  table  in  conspicuous  evidence 
lay  a  three-cornered  piece  of  paper.  The 
mother  seized  on  it  crazily. 

"Dear  Mother  and  Father:     I  have  taken 

this  day  for  going,  because    you    are    both 

away;  that  makes  explanations  and  partings 

unnecessary.     Did  you  both  think  I  was  go- 

185 


THE  WARNERS. 

ing  on  forever  in  this  way — a  burden  and  a 
care?  Did  you  suppose  I  could  not  see  how 
you  have  struggled?  My  own  uselessness 
has  hurt  me  long  enough.  I  am  going  to 
change  it.  I  have  found  a  place  in  the  coun- 
try. It  will  mean  a  home  for  me  and  a  little 
money  besides.  Probably  you  would  not  have 
allowed  me  to  go  if  I  had  asked,  so  I  took  the 
thing  in  my  own  hands. 

"Don't  be  unhappy  or  lonesome.  I  am  safe 
and  well,  and  being  cared  for.  Of  course  I 
shall  write. 

Your  loving  daughter, 

"Betty." 

Betty  the  mother  gasped.  She  made  her 
way  out  of  the  little  room,  when  she  liad  read 
the  note,  into  the  kitchen.  Cyrus  was  stand- 
ing, dumbly  waiting. 

Of  course  this  was  an  explanation — Betty 
admitted  that,  but  there  was  something,  a 
suspicion,  an  uneasiness,  an  intangible  some- 
thing that  had  come  over  the  woman.  It 
pounded  at  her  unceasingly.  It  made  her 
quail  with  apprehension. 

Cyrus  read  the  note.     The  heaviness  lifted 
from  his  face;  he  breathed  hard. 
186 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Well,  that's  all  right.  Thought  she  was  a 
care,  did  she?  Well,  she  didn't  know;  that's 
all.  She  just  didn't  know." 

The  mother  shook  her  head ;  she  said  noth- 
ing. Perhaps  she  could  not  have  spoken. 
Cyrus,  hugely  relieved,  prepared  for  bed.  He 
stretched  and  yawned,  very  tired  from  the 
emotions  of  the  day;  but  for  some  reason 
Betty  waited  around,  not  going  to  bed  till 
past  midnight.  She  wandered  irresolutely 
from  room  to  room  putting  things  to  rights. 
Pottering  over  the  trifles  Betty  had  left  be- 
hind. 

The  sensation  of  something  terribly  wrong 
would  not  leave  her. 

"After  all,  Ida  and  Reinsdorf  are  happier, 
perhaps,"  she  whispered,  desolately,  to  her- 
self. Then  the  tears  came  from  her  hot,  star- 
ing eyes,  and  she  crept  in  to  Cyrus  for  com- 
fort. 

****** 

Across  the  city,  not  three  miles  from  where 
the  mother  fought  with  the  instinctive  fear 
that  is  born  of  maternal  love,  the  daughter 
slept,  her  head  pillowed  comfortably,  her  sur- 
roundings luxurious.  She  had  slipped  easily 
187 


THE  WARNERS. 

into  the  life  that  she  craved.  There  was  no 
longer  the  necessity  for  rising  at  an  early 
hour;  no  longer  the  danger  of  spoiling  her 
hands ;  no  longer  the  humiliation  of  wearing 
coarse  garments.  Neither  had  the  young 
woman  any  qualms.  Why  should  she  have? 
She  possessed  beauty,  youth  and  fascination. 
Teddy  was  a  fixture,  likewise,  her  slave;  a 
very  devoted  lover.  Betty  had  ample  proof 
of  that.  The  girl  truly  had  learned  a  great 
deal;  but  there  was  one  thing  she  had  not 
guessed  at — the  peculiarities  of  men's  natures. 


188 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THINGS  went  from  bad  to  worse  with 
the  Warners.  The  strikers'  places  at 
the  works  had  all  been  rilled  with  new 
men.  The  spirit  of  Anarchy  for  the  moment 
was  crushed  out  of  sight.  The  horror  of  what 
had  come  to  their  leader  cowed  the  men  of 
Revolution.  Betty  was  wretched  and  misera- 
ble; constantly  mourning  for  her  daughter. 
The  mother's  grief  over  the  child's  disappear- 
ance had  driven  out  all  other  feeling  of  dis- 
couragement at  their  ill  luck.  No  word 
had  come  from  the  girl;  her  people  had  no 
idea  where  to  address  her. 

About  this  time  the  couple  who  had  lived 
in  the  Warners'  cottage  departed.  It  was  no 
great  loss  one  way  or  another,  as  they  had 
never  paid  the  rent ;  it  seemed  the  conspiring 
of  Fate  to  leave  no  stone  unturned.  But  how 
to  obtain  food  had  become  an  immense  ques- 
tion. The  perversity  of  poverty  was  heart- 
breaking; sometimes  for  days  they  could  af- 
ford nothing;  then  Cyrus  would  take  his  place 
in  line  at  a  bake-shop  and  wait  hours  for  a  loaf 
189 


THE  WARNERS. 

of  bread  or  a  few  rolls.  Occasionally  he 
worked  with  a  street  gang,  shoveling  and 
picking.  He  grew  thin  and  white,  and  his 
flesh  drew  tight  over  his  body.  Betty  was 
losing  her  trimness — her  gaunt  face  was  no 
longer  fresh  and  pretty.  But  through  all  their 
suffering  there  was  never  a  harsh  word,  an  un- 
gentle expression  between  this  husband  and 
wife;  neither  one  failed  the  other.  Privation 
and  misery  could  not  break  their  bond  of  love. 

When  things  seemed  desperate  there  came 
a  letter  from  Fellows ;  enclosed  was  a  check. 
It  was  not  a  third  what  Cyrus'  well  was  worth, 
but  Fellows  said  frankly  that  it  was  this  or 
nothing;  it  was  all  he  was  prepared  to  give. 
Cyrus,  naturally,  accepted  the  amount. 

Then  the  man  conceived  a  plan.  It  had  lain 
dormant  in  his  head  a  long  time ;  this  money 
brought  it  forward — a  possibility.  He  talked 
it  over  with  Betty  in  all  detail — he  would  leave 
the  money  with  his  wife,  every  cent  of  it,  ex- 
cept a  few  dollars  to  buy  him  a  new  suit.  By 
care,  they  figured,  it  would  last  her  some 
time.  He  meanwhile  would  work  his  way 
West  and  do  a  little  prospecting.  A  man,  a 
day  laborer,  who  was  down  in  his  luck  and 
190 


THE  WARNERS. 

working  in  the  city  only  because  necessity  de- 
manded, had  told  him  that  there  were  mines 
in  Michigan  that  paid  great — iron  ore  mines. 
The  hunt  for  these  wasn't  run  into  the  ground, 
as  gold  mining  was. 

Cyrus  had  small  idea  of  prospecting,  hot 
this  man  who  had  been  a  miner  told  War- 
ner considerable.  At  any  rate,  anything  was 
worth  the  trying.  He  couldn't  go  on  this 
way — starvation  was  facing  them,  and  the  fu- 
ture was  glum. 

Betty  asquiesced,  not  gaily  or  cheerfully, 
but  with  the  bravery  of  desperation.  It  meant 
her  first  separation  from  her  husband ;  that 
seemed  a  larger  calamity  than  poverty  or 
hunger;  but  for  his  own  sake  she  knew  that 
something  had  got  to  be  done. 

There  were  no  hesitations  or  delays.  When 
the  thing  was  decided  she  moved  out  of  their 
desolate  three  rooms  into  one  room. 

It  fronted  on  an  alley  that  was  foul  with 
dirt  and  the  odors  that  rose  from  it  pervaded 
the  whole  atmosphere ;  but  the  room  was 
cheap  and  in  itself  immaculate. 

It  was  here  that  the  parting  took  place. 
Cyrus  had  purchased  a  cheap  ticket  that  car- 
191 


THE  WARNERS. 

ried  him  by  rail  into  the  State  where  he  want- 
ed to  go.  This  saved  weeks  of  tramping  and 
the  danger  of  stealing  rides.  He  took  his  be- 
longings in  a  canvas  bag  that  Betty  herselt 
had  made.  She  went  over  and  over  these 
things  to  see  that  they  were  all  right.  There 
was  one  entire  new  suit,  a  stout  pair  of  shoes 
and  some  underclothing  and  socks,  all  of  the 
coarsest  kind.  Beside  these,  there  was  a  pair 
of  heavy  overalls,  a  book  on  mines,  and  a 
cheap,  gray  blanket.  It  was  likely  he  would 
sleep  many  nights  out  of  doors. 

After  these  things  were  packed  the  bag  was 
filled  to  its  limit. 

"You  must  wear  your  overcoat,  dear;  it 
won't  go  in,"  said  Betty,  looking  up  and  pant- 
ing with  the  exertion. 

At  last  everything  was  ready.  Cyrus  stood 
up;  he  kept  looking  at  the  bag  and  his  over- 
coat and  hat.  He  talked  spasmodically,  dread- 
ing to  speak  the  last  word,  yet  fearfully  con- 
scious that  it  must  come  soon.  Time  was 
getting  short.  The  man  referred  frequently 
to  letters.  It  seemed  the  only  tangible 
species  of  consolation. 

He  would  write  to  her  very  often.  Perhaps 
192 


THE  WARNERS. 

sometimes  news  might  be  indefinite,  for  he 
would  be  in  the  hills  and  away  from  post- 
offices  ;  so  she  must  prepare  herself  for  that, 
but  when  he  could  he  would  send  her  letters. 

Betty  nodded.  She  was  cold  and  trembling. 
Her  lips  quivered  so  that  she  couldn't  speak. 
The  tears  were  coursing  down  Cyrus'  pinched 
face.  It  was  too  hard — the  cruelty  of  this 
moment  was  supreme. 

"Oh,  I  can't  stand  it,  dear ;  I  can't ;  I  can't." 
Betty  suddenly  cried  out,  throwing  herself  in 
his  arms.  He  held  her  close,  speechless  with 
unhappiness  and  grief.  He  could  riot  even 
encourage  with  hopes  of  the  great  things  he 
would  win. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,"  he  gasped  finally. 
"I  couldn't  stand  it  to  come  back  and  find 
you "  Cyrus  had  no  words  to  finish. 

There  was  another  convulsive  embrace.  He 
reached  down  and  took  up  his  bag  and  coat. 
Then  came  one  hysterical  cry  from  the  wom- 
an's pallid  lips.  Human  grief  could  go  no 
farther. 

He  was  gone. 

She  watched  him  from  the  alley  window, 
seeing  his  tall,  lean  figure  through  a  haze  ot 
193 


THE  WARNERS. 

tears.  Once  he  turned  and  waved  ;  after  that 
she  couldn't  see  him  at  all.  When  it  finally 
became  apparent  that  he  was  gone — quite, 
quite  gone — all  Betty's  courage  and  restraint 
flew.  She  dropped  on  her  knees  and,  with 
her  head  buried  in  her  arms,  cried  as  if  her 
heart  would  break.  When  she  rose  again  her 
knees  shook ;  she  was  faint  and  weak.  The 
afternoon  had  faded  and  outside  the  night 
was  falling  somber  and  black. 


194 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  MONTH  passed ;  then  another  and  an- 
other. The  great  forests,  with  their 
darkening  lights  and  queer,  uncertain 
silences  in  time  became  a  solace  to  Cyrus 
Warner,  though  never  for  a  moment's  time 
was  his  longing  for  Betty  appeased.  All  day 
he  strode  up  and  down  the  great,  rugged  hills, 
loving  them  for  their  wrildness ;  sympathizing 
with  them  in  their  crudeness ;  talking  to  them 
for  companionship.  At  night  he  rolled  him- 
self in  his  blanket  and  lay  staring  up  into  the 
star-studded  blackness  until  he  fell  asleep  in 
the  midst  of  the  gigantic  solitude. 

All  about  him  were  mines  in  operation. 
Apparently  the  country  was  alive  with  them. 
Sometimes  he  came  close  enough  to  hear  the 
dull  roar  of  machinery ;  then  he  would  turn 
away  in  another  direction.  He  was  seeking  a 
mine  of  his  own — not  a  place  as  a  day  laborer. 

The  thought  of  this  last  came  to  his  mind 
only  as  a  necessity  if  all  else  failed ;  not  that 
he  ever  admitted  failure.  His  belief  in  ulti- 
mate success  clung  to  him.  He  always  wrote 
195 


THE  WARNERS. 

it  to  Betty ;  he  continually  asserted  it  to  him- 
self. He  would  not  be  beaten ;  there  was  no 
such  thing;  he  would  break  Fate  in  its  own 
game. 

The  weather  was  turning  very  cold.  As 
long  as  no  snow  fell  his  work  was  not  inter- 
fered with.  Occasionally  the  thought  of  pass- 
ing an  entire  winter  in  inaction  frightened 
him.  It  would  mean  a  prolonging  of  this 
separation  that  was  telling  on  him  severely. 
But  he  did  not  dwell  on  the  possibility;  in- 
stead he  plodded  on  with  a  monotonous  rou- 
tine that  made  all  his  days  alike  and  took 
away  all  notion  of  time. 

He  got  under  way  as  soon  as  it  was  light, 
and  tramped  over  the  country,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground  for  a  spot  of  rusty  grass,  a 
sight  of  iron  pyrite.  He  was  laden  on  these 
journeys  like  a  pack-horse.  Over  one  shoul- 
der was  slung  the  canvas  bag ;  dangling  from 
this  by  cords  was  a  small  prospector's  outfit 
— pans,  a  pick,  a  hammer,  shovel,  some  bacon, 
coffee  and  a  small  sack  of  flour.  It  was  a 
terrible  lift  to  carry  all  day,  but  he  seldom 
stopped  two  nights  in  exactly  the  same  place. 

Yet  with  all  this,  Cyrus'  supply  of  food  was 
196 


THE  WARNERS. 

only  sufficient  for  a  few  days.  He  depended 
on  other  camps  or  small  towns  for  frequent 
replenishings.  He  simply  could  not  carry 
more.  The  man  walked  slowly,  that  he  might 
miss  no  possible  chance,  but  his  eyes  became 
alert  from  the  continued  practice,  and  he  cov- 
ered many  miles  a  day. 

No  snow  came  until  January  that  winter. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  3ist  of  December 
Cyrus  fell  in  with  a  man,  a  great  bulk  of  a 
fellow,  sitting  on  a  stump  in  an  attitude  of 
extreme  dejection.  He  stared  at  Cyrus  in 
bewilderment. 

"By  the  gods,  this  is  luck !"  he  exclaimed, 
speaking  to  himself. 

"What's  up  ?"  asked  Cyrus. 

"I'm  stuck.  I  expected  to  cross  this  place 
and  get  into  the  next  town  by  night,  and  I've 
missed  it.  I  ain't  got  a  thing  to  eat,  and  I'm 
dead  beat.  Will  you  share  ?" 

"Sure."  Cyrus  put  down  his  pack.  Thus 
unburdened  he  straightened  up  his  shoulders 
with  a  deep  breath  of  relief. 

"Miner?"  he  queried,  after  a  moment. 

"Not  now.    Was  once.    I  don't  care  about 


197 


THE  WARNERS. 

working  underground  much.  You  prospect- 
ing?" 

"Huh-huh." 

"Any  luck?" 

"None  yet." 

There  was  a  pause.  A  cold  blast  of  air 
swept  down  from  the  north.  It  cut  through 
Cyrus'  worn  garments,  stabbing  his  flesh.  He 
shivered,  then  began  to  look  around  for  twigs 
to  kindle  a  fire.  The  stranger  arose  imme- 
diately and  helped.  In  half  an  hour  a  bright 
blaze  was  springing  up.  But  the  night  was 
not  promising.  It  had  suddenly  fallen  terri- 
bly cold;  the  sun  went  down  in  a  bank  of 
freezing  gray  clouds  and  the  wind  came  up 
with  a  roar.  It  swept  down  between  the  hills 
and  whistled  through  the  hollows,  and  struck 
at  the  men. 

Tingling  and  pricking,  they  got  out  the 
pans.  The  stranger  sliced  the  bacon;  Cyrus 
made  the  coffee.  It  was  a  long  and  a  diffi- 
cult business — it  seemed  impossible  to  cook  in 
that  cold — a  thing  chilled  before  it  got  fairly 
away  from  the  fire.  The  wind  blew  fiercer  at 
every  blast. 

"God  damn  this  weather!"  ejaculated  the 
198 


THE  WARNERS. 

stranger,  jumping  up  and  down,  all  the  time 
he  was  smiting  his  hands  together. 

Cyrus  plodded  speechlessly.  His  face  was 
a  queer  blue,  and  he  had  to  pay  considerable 
attention  to  his  legs  to  keep  them  from  shak- 
ing ;  but  it  was  not  his  way  to  complain. 

The  coffee  was  finally  cooked;  it  warmed 
them,  sending  a  glow  through  their  bodies. 
When  it  was  gone  the  stranger  began  to  talk : 

"We've  made  a  mistake,  a  big  mistake,"  he 
exclaimed.  "We  ought  to  have  got  under 
the  lee  of  some  protection,  a  hill  or  some- 
thing. We  get  the  whole  sweep  of  the  cli- 
mate here." 

Cyrus  knew  this;  he  looked  around  fur- 
tively, trying  to  penetrate  the  blackness ;  it 
was  a  thoroughly  useless  attempt;  the  night 
was  the  darkest  one  he  had  ever  seen;  not 
even  a  star ! 

"No  use  now,"  he  said,  creeping  closer  to 
the  fire.  "We've  got  to  stay  awake  and  keep 
this  going.  That's  sure." 

"You  don't  happen  to  have  any  whiskey 
about  you,  I  suppose?"  The  stranger  put  the 
question  anxiously. 


199 


THE  WARNERS. 

"I  never  carry  it  much  ;  whiskey  don't  agree 
with  me." 

"Pshaw !  I  didn't  have  time  to  get  my  flask 
filled — 1  left  town  in  a  hustle." 

Cyrus  was  an  unsuspicious  man ;  this  ex- 
planation appeared  perfectly  valid.  He  of- 
fered no  comments,  and  the  stranger  sank 
back  against  a  tree,  shivering  every  once  in 
a  while. 

Conversation  languished — neither  man  felt 
sociable.  They  sat  there,  two  silent,  deso- 
late figures,  lost  in  the  vastness  of  a  rugged, 
untamed  forest  solitude. 

After  a  time  Cyrus  moved  to  a  position 
where  he  could  replenish  the  fire  without  ris- 
ing. He  smoked  pipe  after  pipe  of  tobacco, 
thinking  of  Betty  and  wondering  when — 
when  he  would  get  back  to  her;  when  luck 
would  come  his  way  again ;  when  this  endless 
battle  would  be  settled. 

The  stranger  was  sleeping  fitfully ;  once  he 
called  out  sharply,  dreaming  he  was  being 
chased,  and  sending  out  curse  after  curse.  A 
moment  later  he  sat  up,  eyeing  Cyrus  with 
a  look  of  evil  cunning. 

"Did  you  speak?" 

200 


THE  WARNERS. 

Cyrus,  startled  out  of  his  vision  of  Betty, 
replied  gruffly :  "No  ;  no,  I  didn't  say  a  word." 

"Well,  who  bawled?" 

"I  didn't  hear  any  one.  Probably  it  was 
an  animal."  Cyrus  was  honest  in  this ;  his 
mind  had  not  been  on  his  surroundings.  The 
expression  on  Warner's  face  showed  this  suffi- 
ciently to  satisfy  the  stranger;  but  he  slept 
no  more  during  the  entire  night. 

Some  sense  of  danger  apparently  pursued 
this  fellow  who  had  been  deceived  in  the  dis- 
tances between  towns ;  but  he  went  into  no 
personalities.  However,  in  the  desultory  talk 
that  took  place  between  these  two  men  during 
the  wretched  hours  of  that  endless  night 
Cyrus  learned  one  great  piece  of  information 
— it  concerned  the  existence  of  a  magnetized 
rod  that  made  the  discovery  of  iron  ore  a 
matter  of  ease. 

"I'll  have  one  of  those  rods  if  I  have  to  sell 
my  clothes  for  it,"  he  asserted  loudly,  his  eyes 
rolling  with  enthusiasm. 

"They're  great,"  assented  the  stranger. 
"Too  bad  you  didn't  know  of  one  sooner." 

Before  morning  both  men  were  crouching 
close  to  the  flickering  blaze;  their  supply  of 
201 


THE  WARNERS. 

sticks  was  exhausted.  The  cold  was  some- 
thing fearful ;  there  was  nothing  to  break 
those  horrible  gusts  of  wind,  nothing  to  give 
them  relief  from  the  numb  aching  cf  their 
half-frozen  bodies. 

"Lord,  won't  day  ever  come !"  exclaimed 
the  stranger,  his  teeth  now  chattering  so  that 
speech  was  difficult. 

"We'll  have  to  get  up  and  tramp;  it  won't 
do  to  sit  here  like  this  after  our  fire's  gone." 

But  as  the  last  words  came  from  his  lips 
Cyrus  sank  into  a  doze;  he  had  resisted  as 
long  as  endurance  had  permitted.  But  he 
was  not  allowed  an  unbroken  rest.  Before 
an  hour  had  passed  he  felt  something  soft 
falling  and  melting  on  his  face.  His  eyes 
opened  with  a  jerk — it  had  begun  to  snow. 
He  stirred  sharply;  every  move  was  torture; 
the  fire  was  completely  out ;  the  stranger, 
lying  in  a  heap,  was  breathing  noisily. 

Far  away  the  tops  of  the  trees  were  a  faint 
outline  against  the  skies — morning  was  com- 
ing at  last,  thank  God ! 

Cyrus  struggled  to  his  feet ;  he  leaned  over 
and  shook  his  companion : 


202 


THE  WARNERS. 

"Get  up,  pardner ;  this  won't  do.  It'll  mean 
your  death,  sure.  Get  up." 

At  the  last  cry  the  stranger  did  get  up 
with  a  bound  and  an  oath.  He  jumped  to 
his  feet  and  stood  alert,  poised  for  an  imme- 
diate struggle.  For  fully  a  minute  he  stood 
like  this  looking  into  Cyrus'  face  and  trying 
to  place  himself.  He  had  evidently  received 
a  tremendous  fright.  His  brain  was  teeming 
with  some  kind  of  a  personal  danger.  When 
he  recovered  he  dropped  his  eyes  sheepishly. 

"You  see,  I  was  dreaming  that  some  bloke 
was  hunting  me.  I  was  getting  ready  to 
have  it  out,"  he  explained,  his  voice  trem- 
bling. For  hours  afterward  he  still  showed 
evidences  of  fear. 

This  time  there  shot  through  Cyrus'  mind 
a  little  curiosity  as  to  what  his  pardner's  occu- 
pation was. 

Dawn  did  not  arrive  with  a  flaming  an- 
nouncement that  morning;  daylight  came  be- 
cause it  was  law,  not  from  choice.  The  sun 
kept  in  persistent  hiding  behind  the  clouds 
that  piled  up  steadily ;  everywhere  the  sky  was 
grey  with  them.  The  atmosphere  was  thick 
with  snow  that  beat  down  in  sheets  of  blind, 
203 


THE  WARNERS. 

whirling  torture.  It  sifted  down  their  backs 
and  cut  their  skin ;  there  was  no  escape.  The 
wind  increased  until  it  blew  a  gale  that  roared 
and  raged  pitilessly  on  the  two  struggling 
men.  It  seemed  to  spend  its  entire  rage  on 
them.  But  its  very  pitilessness  goaded  them 
into  action  and  preserved  their  lives,  for  they 
could  not  stay  still.  They  hurried  and 
tramped  when  exhaustion  had  become  phys- 
ical pain,  and  a  total  collapse  was  imminent. 
They  wandered  unceasingly  when  it  became 
evident  that  all  sense  of  direction  and  dis- 
tance was  lost.  They  crossed  half-frozen 
places;  waded  through  drifts  waist  deep,  the 
heat  of  their  bodies  melting  the  snow  on  their 
clothes ;  only  to  freeze  later  stiff  and  hard. 
Their  faces  were  raw  from  the  pelt  of  the 
storm.  There  was  not  a  sound  anywhere; 
no  objects ;  nothing  but  the  drift  of  the  snow 
and  the  shriek  of  the  wind.  On  they  went, 
tortured,  beaten,  chased ;  always  on  and  on. 

"Lord,  what  a  spot,"  muttered  the  stranger. 
"Who'd  think  this  could  happen  in  a  civilized 
land?" 

"We  must  be  near  somewhere,"  Cyrus  kept 

204 


THE  WARNERS. 

repeating.  "I  have  never  walked  so  long  be- 
fore and  come  to  nothing." 

The  possibility  of  another  sleepless  night 
out  of  doors  was  unendurable;  but  some- 
thing had  got  to  happen  soon.  It  was  be- 
coming clear  that  they  could  not  struggle  on 
much  longer.  They  were  used  up,  nervously 
and  physically ;  neither  one  spoke  of  it,  though 
each  one  understood. 

"If  it  gets  much  colder,  or  we  have  to  walk 
much  longer — I  don't  know  • — "  whispered 
the  stranger. 

Cyrus  pushed  on  silently.  The  snow  began 
to  crunch  under  their  feet ;  the  sun  was  still 
hidden.  There  was  no  signs  of  a  progressing 
day,  for  the  dull  gray  was  unbroken ;  but  in- 
stinct told  them  it  must  be  afternoon.  Eight 
hours  of  this  heart-breaking  battle! 

Still  they  could  not  stop;  they  dared  not. 
A  fire  was  out  of  the  question;  so  were  rest 
and  food.  Could  this  be  the  end — was  it  the 
end — here,  in  the  very  midst  of  a  much-fre- 
quented country? 

All  at  once  from  out  of  that  gigantic  frozen 
solitude  there  sprang  a  distinct  object.  The 
same  instant  both  men  saw  it.  It  met  their 
205 


THE  WARNERS. 

strained,  half-blinded  vision  through  no  defi- 
nite shape ;  only  as  something  that  rose  before 
them  different  from  the  eternal  landscape  of 
frozen  things. 

"I  guess  we're  coming  to  something," 
gasped  Cyrus,  going  forward  in  a  queer  hitch- 
ing haste.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
was  mad  with  impatience. 

"Hold  on — wait — I  can't  keep  up,"  cried  the 
stranger  in  a  trembling  voice. 

Cyrus  slowed  his  gait.  The  thing  was  far- 
ther away  than  at  first  he  had  thought.  After 
he  had  stared  at  it  steadily  it  seemed  to  dis- 
appear. 

"You  don't  suppose "  Cyrus  began, 

then  hesitated ;  he  could  not  speak  the  doubt 
that  assailed  him. 

"If  that's  so,  I'm  done  for."  The  stranger 
was  following  the  same  thought. 

A  moment  later  he  stumbled,  falling  full 
length  on  the  ice-incrusted  snow,  and  lay 
there,  making  no  effort  to  rise. 

Cyrus  pulled  him  up.  As  he  bent  over,  sud- 
denly there  came  to  his  ears  a  sound,  scarcely 
more  than  the  vibration  of  the  air.  But  it 
arose  above  the  shriek  of  the  wind.  It  was 
206 


THE  WARNERS. 

distinct.     He  listened  a  moment,  bewildered; 
then  the  sound  became  familiar. 

"It's  all  right ;  it's  all  right,"  he  cried,  stand- 
ing his  companion  up  and  holding  him  in  posi- 
tion. This  stranger  was  losing  all  power  over 
his  legs. 

Then  began  the  final  fight  over  Nature,  and 
it  was  Cyrus'  dogged  persistence  that  con- 
quered. The  stranger  kept  stumbling;  but  for 
Cyrus  the  man  would  have  died  within  calling 
distance  of  refuge.  They  went  forward  step 
by  step,  their  bodies  quivering,  their  brains 
unsteady. 

As  the  two  stepped  across  the  threshold 
of  shelter  the  stranger  fell  again,  and  this 
time  Cyrus  failed  to  get  him  up.  He  lay 
mumbling  that  he  might  as  well  have  been 
strung  up,  it  was  death  anyhow.  Fortunately 
no  one  paid  any  attention  to  what  he  said. 

Opposite  to  him  Cyrus  was  talking  fiercely 
to  the  men  who  were  undressing  him.  He 
waved  his  arms  and  rolled  his  eyes  and 
fought. 

"It's  so  hot;  so  damnably  hot.  Leave  my 
clothes  on  me,"  he  cried.  Then  he  began  to 
swear  horribly. 

207 


THE  WARNERS. 

Cyrus  rallied  after  a  few  hours.  His  con- 
stitution, in  spite  of  hard  usage  and  age,  was 
not  shattered.  It  rose  to  the  man's  needs, 
still  the  same  powerful  thing  that  had  carried 
him  as  a  boy  through  the  battle  against  pov- 
erty and  starvation. 

The  stranger,  too,  pulled  out  of  his  plight, 
although  for  days  his  condition  was  pitiful, 
and  during  the  next  four  months  these  two 
men  dug  and  picked  side  by  side,  while  the 
elements  without  stormed  and  raged. 

There  was  nothing  but  storm  after  storm ; 
the  snow  fell  and  fell.  It  stood  in  drifts 
higher  than  a  man's  length;  it  covered  the 
ground  two  and  three  feet  on  a  level.  It  shut 
the  men  in  beyond  all  hope  of  release.  There 
was  nothing  in  sight  but  trees  and  frozen 
stuff;  the  country  all  about  was  like  the  vast 
ice  regions  of  the  far  north. 

Cyrus  could  not  get  beyond  the  camp.  He 
had  no  alternative  but  to  stay  here  and  work 
the  days  out  to  a  finish  at  the  interminable 
mining.  He  settled  to  it,  accepting  fate 
silently  yet  aching  in  every  part  of  his  great 
being  for  Betty ;  his  beloved  Betty. 

But  the  stranger  fretted  and  fumed.  He 
208 


THE  WARNERS. 

was  unsociable,  taciturn,  uneasy,  regarding 
every  man  about  him,  except  Cyrus,  with  an 
open  suspicion  that  made  him  very  unpopu- 
lar. Sometimes  to  throw  his  companions  off 
the  track  he  feigned  great  abstraction  pre- 
tending not  to  see  and  hear  many  things  that 
went  on  about  him.  But  reajly  nothing  es- 
caped this  man's  observation.  He  was  fear- 
fully acute  in  every  sense. 

His  peace  at  night  was  continually  dis- 
turbed. He  lay  rolled  in  his  blanket,  staring 
wide  awake  long  after  the  other  men  slept. 
He  could  not  sleep ;  he  could  not  doze.  There 
was  something  the  matter  with  him;  some- 
thing in  him  that  goaded  him  to  move  on, 
rebelling  at  his  inaction  here.  But  how  could 
he?  How  could  he  move  on?  Walking 
across  that  wilderness  of  ice  and  snow  was 
impossible.  He  had  no  instrument  to  guide 
him.  It  was  sheer  madness  to  start  out  now. 
Yet  to  stay — what  did  that  mean — what  did 
it  mean? 

There  was  one  little  breath  of  comfort.     It 

did  not  stand  for  much,  but  it  was  something. 

If  he  couldn't  get  out,  at  least  no  outsider 

could  get  in,  either,  unless  a  very  imperative 

209 


THE  WARNERS. 

need  urged  the  attempt.  Revenge,  for  in- 
stance ! 

At  this  point  the  man  would  draw  himself 
out  of  his  blanket  and  sit  peering  through 
the  darkness,  clutching  his  revolver  and  listen- 
ing. By  degrees  the  silence  reassured  him; 
then  he  would  lie  down  again  with  a  long 
sigh.  But  in  spite  of  all  this  the  days  did  pass. 

Late  in  the  spring  the  report  came  that  a 
road  had  been  opened  up  to  the  next  town. 
It  was  a  rumor.  No  one  had  come  through 
yet.  But  that  made  no  difference.  From  the 
moment  he  heard  this,  the  stranger  knew  no 
rest. 

"I  got  to  chuck  this  job — that's  all,"  he' 
announced  to  Cyrus  after  a  few  hours  of  tor- 
tured thought.  The  suspicion  in  him  had 
grown  stronger  than  any  emotion  or  reason. 
He  could  not  stand  it.  He  was  like  some 
cornered  animal  waiting  the  coming  of  his 
doom. 

Cyrus  put  down  his  pick.  He  did  not  ap- 
prove of  this  man,  but  he  did  feel  sorry  for 
him.  "It  ain't  a  good  time  to  start  out,"  he 
suggested. 

210 


THE  WARNERS. 

"It  ain't  a  good  time  to  stay,  either.  I  got 
to  go,  that's  all,"  the  man  repeated. 

"You  know  the  roads?" 

The  stranger  shook  his  head. 

Cyrus  looked  at  him  curiously.  There  was 
something  in  his  comrade's  expression  that 
was  very  like  fear. 

"Say,"  he  broke  in  suddenly,  following  an 
impulse,  "I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  if  you're 
bound  to  go.  I've  got  a  compass.  It  ain't 
an  elaborate  affair,  but  it  points  north  all 
right.  I  bought  it  off  a  fellow  here  after  we 
got  in  camp.  I  thought  I  needed  it  then,  it 
was  such  a  close  call  we  had  in  that  storm. 
But  you  can  have  it.  I'm  goin'  to  wait  til! 
the  snow's  off  before  I  begin  my  job  again. 
I  won't  need  it,  and  it  may  do  you  good/ 

The  stranger  raised  his  head;  his  face  was 
very  red.  "Do  you  mean  it,  pard  ?" 

"Sure." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  for  you. 
I  ain't  ungrateful.  I  kin  put  you  onto  a  mine 
— a  showing  not  very  far  from  here,  either. 
It's  a  corker,  or  I  miss  my  calculation,  but  I 
can't  stay  in  this  neighborhood  long  enough 
to  work  it.  I  got  to  go.  A  compass  is  worth 

211 


THE  WARNERS. 

more  to  me  just  now  than  fifty  mines,"  the 
stranger  paused. 

Cyrus  gasped.    "You  ain't  doin'  me  small?" 

"No ;  it's  the  real  thing." 

By  degrees  the  stranger  told  of  the  claim. 
He  repeated  frequently  that  it  belonged  to 
him,  but  he  couldn't  stop  long  enough  in  this 
part  of  the  country  to  open  it.  Probably  be- 
fore he  came  back  some  other  fellow  would 
have  rediscovered  it.  So  Cyrus  could  have  it 
for  the  compass. 

Cyrus  listened,  with  his  eyes  rolling.  It 
was  good  luck  at  last !  Good  luck !  And  all 
for  a  compass — a  bit  of  thing  costing  less 
than  a  dollar,  and  bought  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  What  strange  tricks  fate  did  play 
when  it  was  in  the  humor ! 

The  two  talked  together  hurriedly,  discuss- 
ing, planning,  arranging;  for  the  stranger, 
once  seeing  his  way  clear  to  move  on,  was 
spurred  into  an  immediate  leaving.  He  could 
not  rest.  It  was  hurry,  hurry,  hurry.  He 
waited  for  nothing;  there  were  no  breaks  or 
pauses.  Before  night  had  come  he  had  fixed 
everything  and  set  out,  his  compass  fastened 
securely  in  his  pocket.  He  carried  a  scant 

212 


THE  WARNERS. 

stock  of  supplies  in  a  bag  of  soiled  burlap 
sewed  down  its  length  with  string  and  tied 
at  one  end  with  a  heavy  cord.  He  and  Cyrus 
shook  hands  heavily  at  parting;  then  Cyrus 
watched  him  go. 

He  strode  along,  crouching  under  the  load, 
but  swinging  across  the  hills,  on  and  on  until 
the  bent  figure  disappeared,  far  away  behind 
the  trees. 

"I  wonder  what  that  fellow's  runnin'  from, 
anyhow.  The  law,  most  likely.  But  I'm 
mighty  thankful  I  could  help  him.  It  ain't 
fun  to  be  chased.  Not  much  fun  to  be 
chased." 


213 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LIFE  was  hideous  no  longer.  Betty  was 
living  in  great  state.  It  seemed  as 
though  she  had  never  lived  in  any 
other  way  but  the  extreme  of  luxury.  At 
first  she  had  been  strongly  moved  by  all  this 
wealth,  like  a  child  in  her  delight;  then  she 
was  besieged  by  the  notion  that  in  some 
fashion  she  must  repay  Teddy  for  all  he  was 
doing — all  he  was  giving  to  her;  so  she  lost 
her  high  ways  and  became  very  different.  She 
was  yielding,  always  ready  to  do  his  bidding, 
instead  of  commanding.  It  was  a  mistake,  a 
fatal  mistake.  After  a  few  weeks  of  it  Teddy 
became  bored.  He  always  knew  exactly  how 
he  should  find  her.  It  was  intensely  stupid. 

She  realized  the  change  too  late.  Then  she 
lost  all  frankness,  all  sincerity,  and  took  on 
instead  a  flippant  manner  that  hid  all  real 
feeling,  if  she  had  any.  The  one  genuine 
sensation  that  apparently  belonged  to  her 
from  now  on  was  temper. 

She  could  be  very  angry ;  so  angry  that  it 
214 


THE  WARNERS. 

went  past  all  reason  and  got  into  the  extreme. 
It  was  a  passion,  terrible,  fierce,  wicked,  that 
turned  her  into  an  untamed  monster.  She 
grew  old  beyond  her  years,  also  more  beau- 
tiful ;  in  fact,  it  was  her  marvelous  face  that 
held  Teddy,  when  her  personality  ceased  to 
charm  him.  He  no  longer  stopped  to  con- 
sider what  her  feelings  were  toward  him ; 
their  attitude  of  mind  toward  each  other  had 
altered  materially.  The  man  understood  that 
as  long  as  she  pleased  him  and  he  paid  for 
the  privilege  of  being  pleased,  he  could  own 
her.  It  was  a  matter  of  barter  and  change, 
the  sort  of  arrangement  that  was  not  condu- 
cive to  affection,  but  saved  misunderstanding. 

The  couple  lived  a  fast  life,  doing  some- 
thing all  the  time;  they  traveled  a  little,  but 
seldom  went  far  away  from  the  city.  Betty 
preferred  the  city  to  any  place  on  earth.  She 
liked  the  noise  and  the  rattle  outside;  the 
constant  stream  of  people ;  and  in  her  own 
apartment  it  pleased  her  to  be  complete  mis- 
tress. 

She  entertained  the  men  that  Teddy 
brought,  unhampered  by  conventionalities, 

and  they  were  usually  boisterous  affairs.    She 
* 


THE  WARNERS. 

liked  to  carry  things  as  far  as  they  could  go. 
It  was  this  same  spirit  that  became  the  key- 
note to  her  whole  existence. 

She  overcame  her  prejudices  against  liquor, 
because  it  became  a  necessity  to  buoy  up  on 
daily  braces  of  whiskey.  The  taste  of  the 
stuff  was  dreadful,  but  the  after  effects  deli- 
cious. 

The  girl  dressed  extravagantly ;  in  fact,  she 
seemed  to  be  continually  seeking  methods  of 
spending  money.  She  threw  away  a  fortune 
on  races  and  games.  Bit  by  bit  these  games 
grew  to  have  an  immense  fascination  for  her. 
She  played  and  played,  tingling  to  her  finger- 
tips with  excitement,  usually  losing. 

Teddy  eyed  her  critically;  she  was  a  most 
expensive  toy,  but  he  was  constantly  seeing 
other  men  eye  her  with  open  admiration. 
This  one  fact  made  him  liberal ;  his  pride  was 
touched.  He  had  what  other  men  could  not 
get.  Betty  showed  plainly  that  she  was  not 
interested  in  the  species  man.  He  could  see 
that.  And  as  long  as  his  possession  remained 
valuable  and  superior  in  other  men's  eyes,  just 
so  long  no  other  should  step  in.  It  was  a 
curious  game. 

216 


THE  WARNERS. 

Betty  had  written  once  to  her  mother,  send- 
ing the  letter  to  the  old  rooms.  It  had  not 
surprised  her  that  an  answer  never  came.  She 
did  not  expect  it.  She  had  given  no  address. 
After  the  letter  had  gone  she  sat  for  a  long 
time  thinking.  Something  in  her  was  touched, 
some  remembrance  awakened.  She  looked 
back  into  the  past  and  wondered. 

"I  wouldn't  go  back;  I  couldn't.  Those 
rooms,  that  poverty — oh,  oh!  Oh,  I  could 
not,"  she  argued,  and  as  she  spoke  her  fingers 
were  running  up  and  down  a  string  of  pearls. 
That  night  for  the  first  time  she  showed  some- 
thing near  to  real  affection  toward  Teddy. 
His  response  to  it  was  his  first  bit  of  brutality 
toward  her — he  was  seeing  that  chance  to 
"show  her." 

As  the  summer  waned  and  winter  came  on 
their  life  went  from  "fast"  to  riotous.  She 
was  becoming  satiated  with  wealth,  but  she 
craved  continual  excitement — it  was  always 
something  new.  She  scattered  money  so  lav- 
ishly that  Teddy  grew  uneasy;  the  life  was 
ruining  his  resources.  Also,  it  was  telling  on 
her.  Her  whims  were  as  changeable  as  the 
wind.  There  was  a  strained  look  in  her  eyes ; 
217 


THE  WARNERS. 

the  color  in  her  face  was  extreme  pallor.  Her 
moods  were  terrible;  the  whiskey  was  re- 
sorted to  with  alarming  frequency ;  it  was  all 
in  line  with  the  pace  that  breaks,  then  kills. 

Her  mind  never  seemed  to  be  clear  any 
more.  Sometimes  she  was  tortured  with 
queer  visions  of  her  father  and  her  mother. 
When  these  came  she  would  sit  down  and 
argue  the  entire  thing  out  with  them,  as  il 
they  were  present,  showing  them  how  she 
could  not,  could  not  be  poor.  Flinging  her 
arms  wide  open,  she  would  cry,  "Look  at  me ! 
My  beauty  was  something.  It  was  dear  to 
me.  Dearer  than  anything  else;  it  deserved 
recognition.  What  could  I  do  but  this  ?" 

Once  after  such  a  scene  she  sent  some 
money  to  her  mother.  Of  course  she  never 
heard  from  it;  but  at  the  time  it  eased  her 
mind  and  drove  the  vision  away. 

By  Christmas  time  Teddy's  bank  account 
was  low,  very  low,  and  he  was  in  an  ugly 
temper.  After  that  first  evidence  of  brutality 
toward  Betty  he  was  less  careful  of  his  tem- 
per, and  outbursts  occurred  from  him  with 
great  frequency  and  increasing  steadily  in  vio- 
lence. It  got  so  that  nothing  she  did  was 
218 


THE  WARNERS. 

right.  He  hounded  her  about  money,  twitted 
her  about  her  poverty,  sneered  at  her  fading 
looks.  He  belittled  her  in  every  possible  way. 

At  first  she  defied  him  with  stinging  re- 
plies ;  suddenly  she  became  meek ;  finally 
frightened.  It  was  when  the  man  saw  this, 
that  with  a  gleam  he  realized  his  power.  He 
had  her  underneath  his  grip.  He  had  danced 
his  last  for  her.  She  would  do  the  dancing 
hereafter — the  hideous  dance  of  complete 
degradation. 

He  followed  up  the  advantage  promptly, 
doing  everything  to  hurt  her.  She  never 
knew  what  to  expect.  She  cowered  back 
whenever  he  approached,  sometimes  fearing 
his  violence.  He  seized  her  arms  and  held 
them  until  she  bit  her  lips  with  pain ;  or  he'd 
catch  the  soft  lobes  of  her  tiny  pink  ears 
between  his  teeth  and  grind  them. 

Once  after  this  performance  she  gave  a  shrill 
scream — drops  of  blood  were  dripping  dowrn 
her  face.  His  teeth  had  met  between  the  flesh. 
It  was  a  beastly  performance.  His  threats  to 
cast  her  off  always  followed  these  scenes,  and 
silenced  the  fury  that  raged  in  her.  But  after 
he  was  gone  it  would  break  loose  into  a  pas- 
219 


THE  WARNERS. 

sion,  roused  by  physical  agony,  and  gaining 
strength  from  the  mental  knowledge  of  her 
own  wretched  miserable  helplessness.  Her 
ravings  were  terrible.  She  would  tear  her  hair 
and  dig  her  nails  into  her  flesh  and  pound  her 
body. 

"The  brute !  The  brute !  I'll  not  stand  this 
forever.  Even  to  save  me  from  starvation, 
I'll  not  stand  it!  Oh,  it  can't  go  on  always 
like  this.  It  shall  not.  I'll  do  something 
some  day.  Something  that  he'll  be  respon- 
sible for.  It  will  not  be  my  fault,  but  his 
own.  I'll  do  something — something.  The 
beast !"  she  cried,  between  her  teeth ;  all  the 
time  rocking  her  body  to  and  fro. 

To  look  at  her  then,  with  her  poor  body 
marred  by  the  man's  blows,  and  her  pallid 
face  ravaged  by  temper  and  excesses,  there 
were  few  signs  about  her  of  anything  akin  to 
beauty.  Yet  it  had  been  less  than  a  year. 

Oh,  life  was  not  very  gay;  in  spite  of  the 
wealth  and  the  comforts  and  the  idleness,  life 
was  not  very  gay. 

Time  went  on.  Insensibly  their  intercourse 
drifted  into  a  series  of  brutalities.  Their  sep- 
arations increased  in  length.  Teddy  spent 
220 


THE  WARNERS. 

very  little  time  with  her;  also  he  cut  down 
her  expenses.  But  from  some  inexplicable 
motive  he  continued  to  look  upon  her  as  his 
possession — he  still  owned  her.  Respect  be- 
tween them  was  a  dead  thing  of  the  past. 
Love  there  had  never  been.  The  degradation 
of  their  companionship  was  rampant,  but 
Betty  sank  numbly  into  the  position  where 
he  had  pushed  her. 

She  ceased  to  argue  with  visions.  She  had 
no  symptoms  of  remorse,  no  regrets ;  she  still 
believed  that  her  decision  against  her  poverty 
was  right.  That  this  decision  had  entangled 
her  in  a  bad  web  of  life,  holding  her  fast  in 
its  meshes,  was  but  part  of  the  scheme  of  the 
universe. 

She  was  abused  beyond  all  reason,  and  she 
accepted  it  uncomplainingly.  Even  the  man 
was  stunned  sometimes  at  her  silence,  but  he 
did  not  know. 

Somewhere  deep  down  in  Betty's  heart, 
rooted  there,  was  a  resolve.  A  thing  that 
was  waiting  for  time ;  a  thing  that  was  going 
to  break  itself  loose  some  day  when  time  was 
ripe,  and  with  the  force  of  a  battering  ram 


221 


THE  WARNERS. 

fly  to  the  destruction  of  certain  doings.  She 
was  uncomplaining  now ;  but  wait. 

If  the  man  had  been  a  reader  of  faces  he 
would  have  shuddered  at  the  expression  in 
her  countenance;  instead  of  that  he  laughed 
when  she  shrank  from  him  in  fear. 

But  this  resolve  was  marked  there.  It 
gleamed  underneath  her  lines  and  scars ;  it 
burned  out  from  her  eyes  in  a  great  glare ;  it 
held  its  head  like  a  poisonous  thing,  erect 
above  the  grip  of  her  hands  when  they  were 
clutched  in  pain  that  she  stifled — the  pain  of 
his  inflicting. 

By  the  time  winter  had  gone  no  one  would 
have  recognized  Betty  Warner,  a  child  in 
years — a  forlorn,  broken,  pitiful  wreck  of  a 
woman  in  everything  else. 

The  spring  budded  and  passed  into  the 
blossom  of  early  summer.  Early  one  morn- 
ing Betty  dragged  herself  to  a  window.  The 
freshness  and  beauty  of  the  world  sent  a  pain 
through  her  tired,  aching  heart.  What  a  mis- 
take everything  was,  anyway. 

Up  above,  somewhere  in  a  tree,  a  robin  was 
making  a  great  medley  of  song.  He  was  busy 
at  nest-building.  There  was  an  exhilaration 
222 


THE  WARNERS. 

in  the  air — a  sense  of  wanting  to  live ;  of  the 
goodness  of  being  alive.  Perhaps,  under 
some  conditions  life  was  not  a  mistake.  Per- 
haps if  she  had  tried  in  time  she  might  have 
won  him  back ;  then  it  would  never  have  come 
to  this. 

Suddenly  the  man  about  whom  she 
thought  appeared  in  the  street  below.  Betty 
raised  her  hand  to  her  eyes,  shielding  them 
from  the  glare  of  the  sun  and  watching  him. 
His  coming  at  this  hour  was  unusual.  The 
girl  quivered,  promptly  losing  all  the  softened 
emotions  that  had  come  to  her.  This  visit 
boded  no  good.  What  would  he  do  to  her 
today  ? 

She  raised  her  body,  every  move  hurting 
her;  she  was  sore  and  lame  and  sick.  But 
she  did  not  rise  when  he  came  in.  and  her 
eyes  were  still  wandering  over  the  scene  out- 
side. The  heavy  brightness  of  the  clear  morn- 
ing was  full  upon  her.  Teddy  stopped  half- 
way across  the  room  and  stared  at  her. 

"God,  but  you're  a  sight !"  he  exclaimed. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  riding-suit,  with  long 
patent-leather  leggins  up  to  his  knees,  fawn- 
colored  riding  tights  and  a  short  jacket.  He 
223 


THE  WARNERS. 

did  not  remove  his  hat.  In  his  hand  he  car- 
ried a  short,  heavy  whip.  This  whip  was  an 
elegant  affair,  with  considerable  gold-work 
about  it.  He  flicked  it  continually. 

Betty  had  had  a  severe  schooling  in  self- 
repression ;  but  she  never  became  quite  used 
to  references  of  her  faded  beauty..  On  the 
instant  a  deep  flush  crept  over  her  cheeks. 
He  saw  it  at  once. 

"That's  better,"  he  laughed.  "Color  makes 
the  picture  complete.  Lord,  but  you  do  look 
common." 

Then  he  raised  the  whip  deliberately,  and 
going  closer  he  struck  her  a  blow  in  each 
cheek — a  sharp,  stinging  cut,  that  brought  the 
blood  leaping  to  the  surface. 

The  woman  never  cringed. 

"I'll  leave  a  spot  of  color  for  you  to  thank 
me  for.  It  makes  you  look  young.  And, 
say,  I've  come  here  to  tell  you  to  get  out. 
I  need  the  place ;  but  empty.  You  are  an 
inferior  article  now.  I  want  something  fresh. 
You  move  today.  Understand !  You're  not 
to  play  any  of  your  God  damn  sneaking  tricks 
on  me.  You  take  the  stuff  with  you  that  you 
landed  here  with.  What  I  paid  for  stays." 
224 


THE  WARNERS. 

What  blows  and  abuse  could  not  accom- 
plish, this  order  more  than  filled.  Betty  rose. 
In  her  face,  ghastly  white  except  for  the 
bright  red  welt  in  each  cheek,  was  an  expres- 
sion of  terror.  It  had  come.  She  was  to  be 
tossed  aside. 

"Don't,  Teddy;  don't.  I  can't  go  back. 
I've  nowhere  to  go.  Haven't  I  given  you  the 
best  of  my  life?  Even  a  dog  is  entitled  to 
something  for  faithful  service.  Give  me  what 
you  would  give  a  dog." 

"You  haven't  the  value  of  a  dog.  You're 
in  my  way.  I  tell  you,  I  want  you  to  get  out 
today;  mind,  today." 

The  girl  threw  herself  at  him;  he  stepped 
aside  with  a  quick  move,  and  Betty,  losing 
her  balance,  fell  her  length  on  the  floor.  She 
got  up  to  her  knees  quickly  and  clutched  at 
the  man's  legs.  Anything  to  hold  him ;  any- 
thing to  gain  time. 

"Teddy,  I'll  do  anything  for  you.  You 
know  that.  Only  don't  send  me  out  into  it 
again.  Poverty!  I  can't  stand  it!  Teddy, 
don't  do  that.  Oh " 

The  cry  came  from  her  in  spite  of  all  she 
could  do,  for  the  man  to  free  himself  from 
225 


THE  WARNERS. 

her  hands  was  raining  blow  after  blow  on  her. 
They  fell  anywhere — on  her  body,  her  hands, 
her  head ;  yet,  above  the  agony  of  the  lashing 
the  woman  was  striving  to  band  together  all 
her  reasoning  faculties  for  one  final  plea. 
This  torment  was  momentary ;  to  be  sent  out 
would  be  a  lasting  hell,  enduring  until  death. 
She  was  oppressed  with  the  dread  of  poverty 
— and  what  poverty  brought !  It  was  the  only 
thing  which  moved  her,  the  one  thing  she 
could  not  endure. 

"Damn  you,  let  me  go.  Take  your  hands 
off  me."  Teddy's  face  was  flaming. 

"Won't  anything  change  you?  Can't  I  stay? 
Won't  you  give  me  something — some  tiling  to 
just  keep  me  on?"  The  words  poured  out; 
she  had  no  longer  any  pride,  any  dignity. 

"No ;  curse  you  !  I  won't  give  you  a  thing. 
I  won't  do  a  thing  for  you ;  and  I  want  you 
to  get  out."  The  whip  fell  again,  but  it  did 
not  rise.  Mad  with  the  hurts  she  had  re- 
ceived, goaded  beyond  everything,  by  the  des- 
peration of  meeting  the  final  end,  Betty  seized 
the  whip,  her  temper  aroused  in  all  its  vio- 
lence. 

She  sprang  from  her  knees,  raging,  furious, 
226 


THE  WARNERS. 

and  stood  up  before  the  man — no  longer  a 
woman,  but  an  animal — with  animal  instincts, 
animal  feelings,  animal  methods. 

Teddy,  a  coward,  as  all  bullies  are,  backed 
away.  She  headed  him  off.  Then  began  a 
series  of  maneuvers,  and  it  was  he  who  cow- 
ered and  quailed — not  she.  They  faced  each 
other  speechlessly — moving  about,  always 
face  to  face ;  he  trying  to  escape,  she  to  cor- 
ner. The  sound  of  her  breath,  labored  and 
gasping,  filled  the  room.  The  welts  on  her 
face  stood  out  swollen,  blood-red.  His  coun- 
tenance was  livid. 

Suddenly  she  lurched  forward,  her  hand 
raised;  the  whip  came  down  with  terrific 
force.  It  was  the  heavy  end,  the  end  so  elabo- 
rately ornamented  with  gold.  It  struck  him 
squarely  on  the  left  temple. 

As  he  fell  she  was  upon  him,  a  mad  crea- 
ture ;  her  head  thrown  back,  her  fists1  Houbled. 

Then  the  beastliness  of  the  thing  became 

appalling. 

******* 

The  robin  on  the  tree  was  still  pluming 
itself  and  singing,  when  suddenly  the  slam 
of  a  door    startled    it.      A    woman,  shabby, 
227 


THE  WARNERS. 

ragged,  shrinking,  peered  out ;  then  came  cau- 
tiously down  the  steps.  Her  face  was  cov- 
ered with  a  veil,  but  its  whiteness  showed 
through  the  covering. 

She  stood  looking  furtively  up  and  down 
the  street.  There  was  about  her  the  uncer- 
tainty that  goes  with  hopelessness,  sheer 
hopelessness.  The  robin  grew  uneasy,  then 
the  bird  flew  away;  but  the  woman  did  not 
notice  its  flight ;  she  was  concerned  with  her 
thoughts,  and  they  were  heavy  with  the  ven- 
geance of  the  law.  It  was  hanging  over  her 
a  matter  of  a  short  time. 

She  hurried  down  the  steps,  slinking  away, 
turning  every  corner  wide,  moving  clear  of 
every  passer-by.  So  she  passed  out  of  sight, 
still  slinking.  It  was  the  end  of  everything, 
the  final  end.  Pursued — all  the  rest  of  her 
life  pursued. 


228 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ONE  can  get  through  with  the  finishing 
of  many  shirts  a  day,  providing  one's 
back  holds  out.  Betty  the  demure 
crouched  over  a  machine  hour  after  hour, 
stitching,  stitching,  always  stitching;  and  the 
pile  of  garments  at  her  side  grew  higher. 
There  was  always  the  same  number  to  send 
each  night.  Faster  work  never  increased  it; 
slower  she  never  did.  The  routine  of  her  days 
was  relentless.  At  six  o'clock  she  had  break- 
fast— it  was  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  hard  roll ;  then 
until  twelve  o'clock  she  worked.  At  that  time 
there  was  a  dinner — usually  a  dish  of  soup, 
sometimes  a  bit  of  meat  with  a  piece  of  potato. 
At  night  it  was  tea  and  roll,  over  again. 

She  was  careless  of  her  dress  now,  and  her 
room  was  not  always  neat.  What  was  the 
use;  no  one  came  to  see,  and  she  worked 
hard  enough  anyway.  The  rank  odor  of  foul 
alleys  poured  in  at  the  windows  all  day  and 
all  night.  Personal  cleanliness  would  not  do 
away  with  that.  And  indoors  ft  was  dark, 
gloomy,  lamentably  desolate.  This  she  could 
229 


THE  WARNERS. 

not  change  either.  It  had  been  months  since 
she  had  any  word  from  Cyrus.  He  was  prob- 
ably dead;  no  doubt  of  it  at  all;  only  death 
would  keep  him  from  sending  those  letters 
that  breathed  of  hope  and  spoke  continually 
of  love.  Betty  mourned  for  him  night  and 
day.  Sitting  over  that  machine  she  poured 
her  heart  out  in  grief — the  tears  fell  and  fell, 
rolling  down  over  her  cheeks  that  were  no 
longer  fresh  and  pink,  but  sunken  into  dark 
shadows.  Her  hair,  odorous  with  the  spices 
of  Araby,  was  streaked  with  grey,  and  piled 
loosely  on  her  head.  Her  eyes  were  dimmed 
with  crying  and  working  too  much  in  the 
dark.  She  was  pitifully  thin. 

The  heat  of  late  July  was  in  the  air;  the 
atmosphere  was  stagnant,  shimmering  and 
vibrating.  It  took  the  very  breath  of  life 
from  one's  lungs.  The  sun  was  like  an  open 
furnace,  pouring  out  heat  that  burned  every- 
thing it  touched.  There  was  no  escaping  it. 
It  beat  down  in  a  blue  glare,  blistering  and 
torturing — death  in  its  rays. 

At  four  in  the  afternoon  it  became  unen- 
durable. There  was  not  a  sign  of  wind  stir- 
ring. Betty,  doubled  over  her  work,  gasped. 
230 


THE  WARNERS. 

She  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  morning. 
The  hour  at  noon  she  had  taken  for  rest — 
rest  that  was  an  absolute  demand.  Great 
black  circles  rimmed  her  eyes ;  the  rest  of  her 
face  was  white  to  her  lips ;  yet  she  sewed.  The 
room  was  full  of  smells — the  smell  of  foul 
stuff  decaying  in  the  sun,  the  smell  of  filth 
and  overcrowding ;  the  smell  of  hot  humanity 
when  it  is  poor,  crowded,  unkempt,  unclean. 

Suddenly  Betty  started  to  her  feet,  grasping 
at  her  head,  reeling  with  fatigue.  She  stum- 
bled half  way  toward  the  bed.  Before  she 
could  cross  the  room,  without  the  least  warn- 
ing, she  fell  heavily  on  the  floor  and  lay  there 
still  and  rigid,  her  lips  a  queer  blue  black 
color.  It  was  a  total  collapse;  the  miracle 
was  how  she  had  kept  up  so  long. 

Only  a  few  seconds  afterward  there  was 
considerable  commotion  outside  her  room. 
A  big  voice  was  asking:  "Is  Mrs.  Warner  in 
this  place?" 

And  an  answering  voice,  "That's  where,  if 
she's  still  any  place  on  this  earth." 

A  moment  later,  and  without  a  preliminary 
knock,  the  door  of  Betty's  room  was  thrown 
open  with  a  wide  swing.  Cyrus  stepped  in. 
231 


THE  WARNERS. 

His  countenance  was  radiant ;  his  whole  body 
buoyant.  He  gave  one  glance,  then  all  life 
left  his  expression. 

With  a  cry  of  horror  he  looked  at  the  pros- 
trate figure  on  the  floor.  In  that  one  swift 
second  he  took  in  everything — the  poverty, 
the  suffering,  the  hardship  of  the  months  gone 
by;  those  months  of  separation  and  agony. 
His  own  miserable  weeks  were  forgotten  be- 
fore the  evidences  of  what  this  woman  had 
borne. 

He  knelt  down,  raising  the  poor,  wasted 
figure  in  his  arms — his  beloved  Betty,  the 
woman  he  had  taken  unto  himelf,  to  love, 
honor  and  protect. 

"Oh,  Betty,  my  girl,  my  girl;  open  your 
eyes.  I've  come  back  to  you,  dear.  It's  all 
right.  Don't  leave  me  now,  my  girl.  I'm 
back  now,"  he  called,  his  voice  sharp  with 
anxiety. 

Some  note  in  it  recalled  her  wandering 
sense,  and  she  did  open  her  eyes  with  a  stifled 
groan.  She  looked  up  directly  into  his  face, 
then  for  an  instant  Betty's  heart  stood  still. 
She  was  terror  stricken.  His  presence  was 
like  the  leading  of  the  dead  back  to  life.  She 
232 


THE  WARNERS. 

had  awakened  from  unconsciousness  into  de- 
lirium. She  caught  her  breath,  at  the  same 
time  seized  hold  of  him  wildly,  and  he  witl. 
a  cry  threw  both  arms  about  her,  holding  her 
to  him,  sobbing  like  a  child,  but  sobbing  with 
joy. 

She  had  come  back  to  him;  nothing  else 
mattered  but  that ;  she  was  there,  his  Betty 
— not  dead,  but  alive  with  him. 

Care  and  responsibility  left  his  mind;  he 
was  back  again  with  his  wife,  crowned  with 
the  victories  of  success;  his  work  was  fin- 
ished, and  he  had  won.  His  perversity  and 
dogged  insistence  had  won.  He  assured  her 
continually  of  that.  There  was  nothing  else 
to  tell;  no  failures  to  recount;  no  disap- 
pointments to  go  over ;  he  had  endured  both 
when  they  had  come,  but  they  were  between 
God  and  himself — not  between  himself  and 
men.  He  had  done  his  work,  fought  his  bat 
ties,  and  resisted  the  onslaught  of  his  ene- 
mies,— poverty  and  the  elements ;  and  he  had 
conquered  them. 

Cyrus  told    Betty  a  great  deal  of   the  in- 
spiration that    she    had    been    to    him.     He 
poured  out  all  the  torrent  of  pent-up  love  that 
233 


THE  WARNERS. 

had  been  stifling  him  during  the  miserable 
months  of  separation.  He  let  her  know  how 
his  hopes  were  always  high,  because  of  think- 
ing of  what  the  future  held  for  them  together. 
How  he  knew  that  it  must  end  right  for  them 
all.  Fears? — No,  there  had  been  no  fears; 
there  was  no  failure  possible.  He  would  not 
hint  at  the  other  side ;  but  somehow  Betty 
the  demure  read  beneath  all  this  and  saw  for 
herself.  It  flashed  before  her  like  a  vision, — 
the  man's  unfailing  courage,  unflinching  pa- 
tience, dogged  persistence. 

The  woman  looked  at  him,  understanding 
what  he  had  endured  and  overcome ;  what  he 
had  suffered  and  withstood.  How  from  the 
first  he  had  made  it  a  question  only  of  suc- 
cess or  death,  and  had  carried  triumph  into 
the  very  camp  of  defeat. 

Hour  after  hour  they  sat  close  together, 
her  hand  fast  in  his,  her  face  against  his  face. 
The  night  with  its  breathless  heat  and  nau- 
seating odors  was  forgotten;  the  shirts  lay 
in  a  small  pile  on  the  floor,  one  still  unfinished 
floundered  helpless  from  the  presser  of  the 
machine.  The  cries  and  street  noises  had  sub- 


234 


THE  WARNERS. 

sided.  All  over  the  city  the  people  were  in 
bed. 

These  two  had  no  remembrance  of  time. 
It  was  long  past  midnight  when  the  sound  of 
cautious  footsteps  came  creeping  around  the 
house  and  up  the  stairs.  Cyrus  holding  Betty 
close  paid  no  heed.  Their  emotion  of  bound- 
less joy  held  them  in  its  fierce  grip — joy  too 
deep  for  human  comprehension — too  pro- 
found for  outside  interruption. 

The  steps  continued ;  then  stopped  abrupt- 
ly outside.  The  door  opened.  Like  the 
shadow  cf  death  and  as  noiselessly,  a 
wretched  figure  slunk  in.  Cyrus  started, 
thinking  only  of  some  mistake.  The  woman 
kept  on,  closed  the  door,  locked  it,  then 
leaned  over  with  her  ear  to  the  key-hole  and 
listened  intently.  Suddenly  she  turned. 

"They're  after  me.  I  know  it.  Hide  me. 
For  God's  sake,  don't  give  me  up,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

Cyrus  looked  at  her;  there  was  an  abrupt 
recognition ;  a  recognition  that  he  put  aside 
as  unreal,  impossible ;  he  drew  a  deep  breath ; 
his  hands  fell  helplessly  by  his  side.  What 


235 


THE  WARNERS. 

doom  was  this  that  was  hanging  over  his 
house? 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Betty  the  demure. 

Cyrus  did  not  answer;  he  had  lost  all 
faculty  of  dealing  with  the  situation.  It  was 
beyond  him.  He  knew  the  face ;  yet  it  could 
not  be — it  could  not  be — the  thing  was  too 
ghastly. 

The  miserable  woman  turned  again ;  every 
move  she  made  gave  the  impression  of  slink- 
ing. She  held  out  her  hands,  "Oh,  mother," 
she  wailed. 

At  that  cry  the  world  broke  about  the 
mother's  head. 

"No !  No !  No !"  she  screamed,  violently 
clinging  to  Cyrus.  "Not  that,  not  that!" 

At  once  the  woman  cowered  back,  bowing 
her  head  upon  her  arms,  misunderstanding 
surprise  for  repudiation. 

"I  deserve  it,  of  course.  I  am  here  unasked, 
unbidden.  I  left — Hark !"  She  started  up, 
listening  again.  No  sound  anywhere ;  only 
the  noises  of  sleep,  the  deep  exhaling  of  the 
hideous  creature,  night. 

Suddenly  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes.  "Oh, 
Mother,  Father, — I  have  looked  everywhere 
236 


THE  WARNERS. 

for  a  refuge.  If  you  do  not  take  me  then  there 
is  no  hope.  I  must  go  to  them.  His  money 
will  hunt  me  out.  I  am  afraid.  I  am  so 
afraid  to  die !"  She  shuddered.  She  was 
humbled  at  last.  So  humbled  that  she  would 
never  rise  again. 

Cyrus  went  to  her  swiftly,  only  the  years  of 
her  childhood  rose  in  his  sight.  Reason  was 
returning.  At  last  he  appreciated  that  this 
was  his  girl. 

"My  girl,"  he  stammered.  "What  is  it?" 
But  the  mother  caught  the  child  in  her 
arms.  This  was  their  re-uniting.  She  had  no 
questions ;  no  rebukes.  Maternal  love, 
stronger  than  life,  stronger  than  death,  was 
here.  "You  must  never  leave  us  again,  dear ; 
never  as  long  as  we  have  a  roof  above  our 
heads,"  she  said. 


237 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CYRUS  had  come  home  believing  his  last 
conflict  had  been  fought.    But  had  it  ? 
Was  not  all  life  and  every  hour  in  life 
a  huge  battle  against  the  onset  of  that  mon- 
ster, the  World. 

By  degrees  little  Betty's  story  came  out. 
As  he  listened,  the  great  protective  instinct  in 
Cyrus  rose,  alert  and  aggressive.  He  could 
not  stand  it;  never  had  he  been  so  roused. 
He  struggled  with  his  hands  to  keep  them 
still ;  his  eyes  rolled,  his  breath  came  quiv- 
ering from  his  open  lips.  He  was  stricken 
speechless  with  the  horror  of  the  thing. 

When  the  girl  bared  her  neck  and  breast, 
showing  him  the  scars  and  evidences  of  the 
abuse  she  had  received,  Cyrus  became  a  rag- 
ing beast.  What  was  the  use  of  restraint  be- 
fore such  cruelty  as  this  ? 

"You  should  have  killed  him ; — killed  him," 
he  gasped. 

"I  did,"  she  whispered,  nodding;  "I  did.    I 
did;    and  they  are  hunting  me  for  it.     But 
they'll  never  take  me." 
238 


THE  WARNERS. 

While  Cyrus  was  stirred  only  by  his  girl's 
sufferings,  the  shame  of  her  daughter's  life 
was  what  sunk  into  the  mother's  heart.  It 
sunk  and  burned,  eating  its  way  deeper  and 
deeper.  She  was  tortured  with  a  vague,  in- 
definable remorse,  that  put  a  question.  Had 
she  brought  up  her  little  girl  so  poorly  that 
honor  had  been  as  nothing?  What  a  bungler 
she  had  been.  How  unobserving  and  careless. 

She  said  no  word.  It  might  have  been  bet- 
ter if  she  had ;  but  words  now  were  so  mean- 
ingless. She  simply  took  the  responsibility 
of  the  whole  affair,  making  excuses  for  every- 
one but  herself.  There  was  something  fun- 
damentally wrong  somewhere ;  that  was  cer- 
tain. It  must  be  with  herself;  who  else  was 
there  ? 

And  she  began  to  have  an  intense  hatred  of 
her  body.  Her  gentleness  to  little  Betty  was 
sublime.  The  mother  fancied  that  in  this  way 
she  was  making  some  reparation  for  past  fail- 
ures, past  neglects. 

Those  two  things  were  continually  before 
her.  She  worked  heroically  to  correct  and 
amend.  Hers  must  be  a  life  of  sacrifice  and 


239 


THE  WARNERS. 

renunciation  from  now  on.  Perhaps  in  that 
way  she  could  save  them  both. 

Little  Betty  lying  on  her  bed,  too  weak  to 
sit  up,  would  watch  her  mother,  racked  with 
the  crudest  grief  she  had  ever  known.  Bru- 
tality she  could  have  endured  with  stoicism, 
but  this  kindness  was  killing. 

Without  raising  her  head  her  eyes  would 
follow  her  mother  all  over  the  room.  Some- 
times she  would  reach  out  her  arms,  seizing 
her  mother,  and  cling  to  her,  crying  broken- 
ly: "I  am  not  fit.  I  don't  deserve  it.  You 
must  not  come  near  me  .  But  don't  leave  me, 
Mother,  don't.  Don't." 

Then  the  mother's  head  would  bow.  "You 
must  not  say  that,  Betty.  It's  my  fault,  not 
yours.  All  my  fault,  and  I'll  never  leave  you, 
little  girl." 

It  was  after  a  scene  like  this  one  day  that 
Kirby  arrived.  He  was  just  out  of  prison, 
released  at  the  end  of  a  year's  service  by  or- 
der of  the  Governor.  His  sentence  had  been 
for  life. 

He  came  down  in  high  spirits  to  get  at 
work  again.  Anarchy  must  prevail,  and  he 
was  the  man  of  all  men  to  assist  it.  His 
240 


THE  WARNERS. 

name  was  great  among  his  own  kind;  the 
press  had  sounded  his  deeds  from  one  end 
of  the  country  to  the  other.  He  had  had 
every  move  chronicled;  every  sentence  re- 
produced. His  imprisonment  had  heightened 
his  power.  The  tragic  death  of  Ida  and  Reins- 
dorf  assured  him  a  position  second  to  none 
of  the  socialistic  leaders.  The  sense  of  peril 
in  connection  with  his  work  apparently  did 
not  influence  him.  He  was  sincere  enough  in 
his  ideas  to  put  them  before  self. 

But  his  coming  was  fatal  to  Cyrus.  The 
man  now  was  not  only  willing  but  ready  to 
listen.  The  tirades  against  the  rich  soothed 
him,  though  he  had  no  enmity  against  any- 
one but  Fellows. 

His  feeling  towards  that  man  was  inhuman. 
There  was  nothing  he  would  not  have  done 
to  him.  He  could  not  speak  the  name,  he  was 
so  choked  with  hatred.  Some  day  there  would 
be  an  end  to  this  thing.  Cyrus  waited  for  it ; 
yet  knowing  that  a  meeting  with  Anthony  J. 
Fellows  would  be  disastrous.  But  he  was  glad 
of  it.  He  wanted  something  fearful. 

He  watched  his  daughter  and  knew  that  she 
was  dying.  Her  condition  grew  weaker  every 
241 


THE  WARNERS. 

day.  Her  fever-burned  hands  picked  and 
played  over  the  coverlet.  She  talked  inces- 
santly, raving  in  delirium ;  going  from  one 
subject  to  another.  She  went  over  and  over 
her  life  with  Teddy.  It  was  fight,  fight,  fight. 
All  at  once  her  voice  would  change;  in  the 
bitterest  grief  she  would  cry  out  for  forgive- 
ness, tortured  by  the  shame  she  had  brought 
on  her  father  and  mother.  From  that  she 
would  implore  protection,  tossing  in  the 
throes  of  pursuit.  The  police  were  on  her 
track — she  had  no  where  to  go.  Her  trou- 
bles left  her  in  a  state  of  collapse. 

Yet  it  was  what  she  had  caused  her  people 
that  distressed  her  most.  She  talked  to  her 
mother  in  pitiful,  heartbroken  tones.  Betty's 
whole  body  quivered  with  pain. 

Cyrus  sobbed,  beside  himself.  It  was  past 
all  limit.  He  hovered  over  the  broken  wreck 
of  womanhood  and  saw  only  his  child,  his 
beautiful  child,  his  child  and  Betty's. 

One  day  a  letter  came  addressed  to  him ; 
he  read  it  through  hastily,  his  face  flaming. 
It  was  from  a  mining  agent,  asking  the  price 
of  his  mine.  Mr.  Anthony  J.  Fellows  was 
seeking  to  consolidate  all  the  iron-ore  mines 
242 


THE  WARNERS. 

into  one  great  company — what  was  his  price  ? 
Cyrus  uttered  a  great  oath. 

"What's  up?"  asked  Kirby;  he  was  beside 
the  bed  putting  iced-cloths  on  Betty's  head. 
Betty  the  demure  stopped  in  her  work  and 
turned  her  tired,  haggard  face  towards  her 
husband. 

"He  is  after  that  too?  He  ain't  content 
with  all  the  rest.  God  damn  him." 

But  what  was  there  to  do? — nothing  but 
Fellows'  will.  If  Cyrus  refused  to  sell  he 
knew  what  would  happen.  That  resistless 
enemy — MONEY — would  begin  the  hunt ;  it 
would  squeeze  him,  starve  him,  and  finally 
break  him.  If  he  sold,  what  then?  What  was 
there  left?  The  old  story,  starvation,  pov- 
erty, suffering. 

The  very  thing  he  had  fought  to  keep  off 
was  back  at  him  again  through  Fellows,  al- 
ways through  Fellows.  Would  that  man 
never  cease  to  trouble  him — to  hound  him? 
He  had  brought  ruin  now  for  the  third  time. 
Was  there  any  right  in  the  course  things  had 
taken?  Any  right  in  what  Fellows  was  per- 
mitted to  do  ?  There  might  be  no  statute  law 
to  stop  him ;  but  there  was  another  law — the 
243 


THE  WARNERS. 

law  of  right — the  law  of  living  and  letting 
live.  And  Cyrus  demanded  the  right  to  live. 
He  was  not  always  going  to  be  powerless  to 
resist. 

Betty's  ravings  filled  the  room.  "Don't, 
Teddy.  Don't  send  me  out  into  that.  I  can't 
stand  it.  Even  a  dog  is  entitled  to  something 
for  faithful  service.  Oh,  oh,  oh,  you  hurt 
me."  She  was  panting  and  struggling.  Her 
mother  took  both  the  burning  hands  in  one 
of  hers  and  supporting  Betty's  head  with  the 
other,  she  laid  the  girl  back  against  the  pil- 
lows. 

Little  Betty  yielded  like  a  child;  she  was 
very  weak ;  but  even  that  exertion  tired  Betty 
the  demure,  she  was  giving  out.  In  truth, 
sacrificing  her  life  to  her  daughter.  Anyone 
could  see  that  it  was  becoming  only  a  matter 
of  a  little  time  for  them  both. 

Something  of  this  flashed  through  Cyrus' 
brain.  He  seemed  to  be  seeing  things  all  at 
once  with  desperate  distinctness.  His  face 
went  white. 

"Come,"  he  whispered  to  Kirby,  "I  want 
your  help.  I  am  going  to  kill  Anthony  Fel- 
lows." 

244 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CYRUS  went  to  work  on  his  plan  of 
murder  with  the  utmost  deliberation. 
He  and  Kirby  had  virtually  changed 
places.  It  was  he  who  arranged  and  advo- 
cated death  to  the  capitalist.  It  was  no 
longer  an  evil  to  kill ;  it  was  right.  The  prin- 
ciple underlying  the  deed  was  self-preserva- 
tion, and  in  every  crisis  self-preservation  was 
the  first  law.  A  perfectly  legitimate  thing. 

There  was  not  much  discussion  of  means. 
It  would  be  a  bomb,  of  course.  Kirby  would 
make  it.  It  should  have  a  time-fuse  and  they 
would  place  it  somewhere  about  Fellows' 
house.  It  depended  on  the  rich  man's  habits, 
how  and  where  and  when  the  exploding  thing 
should  be  put. 

By  turns  Kirby  and  Warner  dogged  the 
house.  It  was  a  big  square  building  of  stone 
like  an  impregnable  fortress.  A  driveway  ran 
from  the  barn  to  porte  cochere. 

By  dint  of  persistent  watching  the  men  dis- 
covered that  Anthony  J.  Fellows  left  nis  house 
in  a  carriage  at  nine  o'clock  Tuesdays,  Wed- 
245 


THE  WARNERS. 

nesdays  and  Thursdays ;  the  rest  of  the  week 
he  spent  out  of  town,  to  avoid  the  heat  of 
summer. 

This  seemed  to  furnish  the  necessary  in- 
formation. It  was  decided  that  the  bomb 
should  be  placed  by  the  driveway  just  the 
other  side  of  the  porte  cochere. 

After  much  discussion  they  concluded  that 
a  fuse-bomb  was  too  uncertain;  it  might  go 
off  too  soon  or  too  late.  A  percussion  bomb 
was  the  article.  The  weight  of  the  carriage 
rolling  over  it  would  explode  the  dynamite. 
That  would  make  failure  practically  impos- 
sible. 

In  fact  it  seemed  that  with  careful  manipula- 
tion the  attempt  could  not  fail. 

The  percussion  bomb  caused  Kirby  some 
uneasy  moments ;  it  was  much  more  difficult 
of  manufacture  than  a  fuse ;  but  it  was  finally 
mastered.  A  rough  affair  of  lead  pipe.  Kirby 
begged  the  privilege  of  placing  it,  but  Cyrus 
was  immovable;  it  was  his  doing.  He  was 
dealing  out  the  death  for  his  own  wrongs; 
therefore  his  alone  should  be  the  risk. 

Everything  was  ready  on  Monday  after- 
noon. Cyrus  went  home  to  spend  the  last 
246 


THE  WARNERS. 

evening  and  night  with  his  two  women.  The 
next  morning  before  dawn  he  would  come  to 
Kirby  for  the  machine.  This  was  to  be  put 
in  its  position  while  the  servants  at  Fellows' 
house  were  asleep. 

The  two  Bettys  were  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  scheme.  It  was  Cyrus'  wish  that  they 
know  nothing  at  all  of  the  affair.  Little  Betty 
raved  no  longer;  the  activity  of  her  mind 
was  lost.  She  lay  quiet  in  her  bed,  picking — 
always  picking — with  restless  fingers,  her  eyes 
stared  open.  She  was  pitifully  weak.  There 
was  no  hope  for  her — absolutely  no  hope. 
Death  was  coming ;  not  boisterously,  but  like 
the  gentle  rising  of  the  tide.  There  was  no 
use  to  fight ;  no  use  to  pray ;  the  shadow  was 
so  near  no  man  could  stop  it. 

The  mother  sat  by  the  bed  watching;  no 
expression  in  her  face — no  emotion  any- 
where. The  sorrows  that  she  had  endured 
had  blunted  every  sense  in  her  whole  make- 
up. She  simply  sat  moveless,  helpless,  dumbly 
waiting;  her  hands  shutting  tighter  and 
tighter.  Even  Cyrus'  presence  failed  to  rouse' 
her. 

Along  towards  nine  o'clock  Kirby  came  in ; 
247 


THE  WARNERS. 

he  was  fearfuly  excited.  In  his  hand  he  car- 
ried a  package  that  he  handled  with  immense 
caution.  He  called  Cyrus  aside. 

"You've  got  to  keep  this  here.  Tonight  I 
was  followed  home.  Those  bloodhounds  are 
on  to  the  game.  They  suspect  something  and 
are  dogging  me.  Don't  come  near  me  in  the 
morning;  it  wouldn't  be  safe.  I  think  I'd  best 
get  away  somewhere  for  tonight.  Be  careful 
of  this ;  you  know  one  drop  would  blow  you 
all  to  hell.  I  don't  dare  stay  here;  it  might 
put  'em  on  your  track.  Good  luck,  Cy.  Don't 
get  nervous.  The  bomb  is  all  right." 

Cyrus  took  the  bomb  gingerly.  He  was  too 
amazed  at  what  Kirby  had  said  to  grasp  the 
situation  clearly. 

A  moment  later  Kirby  had  wrung  Cyrus' 
hand  and  was  off, — peering  out  into  the  hall 
before  he  passed  his  friend's  door  to  be  sure 
the  way  was  clear.  He  wouldn't  bring  his 
friend  under  suspicion. 

When  the  leader  of  anarchy  was  finally  out 
into  the  street  he  was  off  like  a  hound,  disap- 
pearing down  an  alley,  and  dodging  streets. 
If  anyone  was  dogging  him  he'd  give  them 
their  money's  worth.  He  would  not  get  into 
248 


THE  WARNERS. 

the  penitentiary  again  if   he   could  avoid   it. 
That  was  straight. 

Meanwhile  Cyrus,  holding  the  instrumenf 
of  instantaneous  death  in  one  hand,  was 
searching  all  about  the  room  for  a  place  of 
safety.  He  did  not  like  the  turn  things  had 
taken.  Never,  never  would  he  have  endan- 
gered his  beloved  Betty  by  housing  such  a 
terror  as  this  in  the  same  room  with  her  if 
he  could  have  helped  it.  He  tiptoed  around 
awkwardly;  his  face  red  with  anxiety  and 
alarm. 

Once  he  passed  near  the  bed.  It  was  just 
then  that  a  swift  crisis  began  to  manifest  it- 
self in  the  sick  woman.  Her  face  turned  livid ; 
it  seemed  impossible  for  her  to  breathe ;  the 
under  jaw  fell ;  she  trembled,  her  hands  and 
feet  already  cold.  Then  a  rattle  came,  vibra- 
ting in  her  throat. 

The  mother  heard ;  at  last  she  was  roused 
to  emotion  again.  Bending  over  the  bed  she 
stared  at  that  dying  face  through  the  flicker- 
ing light  of  a  candle.  It  was  death.  Death ! 
No  mistake  about  that;  nothing  but  death 
could  look  like  this. 

There  came  a  shrill,  sudden  scream  of  fright 
249 


THE  WARNERS. 

from  the  lips  of  the  woman  Cyrus  adored. 
It  pierced  his  faculties. 

"Cyrus  !  Cyrus !  She's  dying — our  Betty ! 
Oh !— Oh !— " 

At  Betty's  cry  Cyrus  turned  sharply;  his 
mind  terribly  confused.  The  move  brought 
him  on  a  line  with  the  bed  and  the  door. 
Betty  the  demure  was  swaying.  Her  strength 
had  fled  and  she  was  frightfully  pale.  The1 
man  divined  that  almost  without  seeing,  for 
his  rolling  eyes  were  fixed  on  another  figure. 
A  man  who  stood  there  before  him  in  the 
doorway.  At  first  Cyrus  stared,  bewildered, 
without  understanding.  Then  with  the  swift- 
ness of  an  instinctive  protection  he  remem- 
bered. 

It  was  that  man !  The  man  who  was  track- 
ing her!  His  dying  child.  His  Betty — all 
because  she  had  killed  the  son.  How  in  the 
world  had  he  found  them  out?  How  had  he 
come  in  so  silently,  standing  there  in  the  very 
room  before  he  had  been  discovered? 

With  the  vivid  sagacity  of  a  trapped  beast 

all  Cyrus'  senses  bounded  into  acute  action. 

This  was  his  enemy — the   enemy  that  had 

haunted    his  house  with    the  persistence  of 

250 


THE  WARNERS. 

doom,  but  was  the  very  man  he  himself  was 
seeking  out.  The  man  whom  he  was  to  kill 
in  less  than  twelve  hours. 

Cyrus  took  one  step  forward.  His  eyes 
were  gleaming  with  satisfaction.  Through 
his  whole  body  swept  a  veritable  passion  oi 
joy.  They  were  on  an  equal  footing  now. 
The  instrument  of  death  was  in  his  hands — 
his  enemy  was  within  his  reach — at  last — ! 

With  great  deliberation  Cyrus  advanced  to 
within  three  feet  of  Anthony  J.  Fellows.  Then 
he  raised  his  hand, — the  hand  that  held  the 
bomb.  In  the  presence  of  this  tremendous  op- 
portunity the  man  was  forgetting  everything 
— Betty's  death,  his  wife's  collapse,  his  own 
danger — they  were  all  lost  sight  of  under  the 
madness  of  his  desire  for  revenge. 

Suddenly  he  paused,  his  hand  in  the  air. 
Something  in  the  doomed  man's  eyes  was 
holding  Cyrus.  Something  that  was  not  fear , 
something  that  was  not  born  of  danger. 

In  another  minute  Fellows  moved  a  step 
nearer  to  Warner,  stretching  out  a  hand.  For 
an  instant  the  fate  of  both  men  swung  in  the 
balance,  then — 

"Wait,"  said  Fellows. 
251 


THE  WARNERS. 

And  Cyrus,  still  looking  directly  into  his 
enemy's  eyes,  slowly  began  to  lower  the 
bomb. 


THE    END. 


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